f LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF 1RNIA SAN DICGU ANTHOLOGY OF RUSSIAN LITERATURE From the Earliest Period to the Present Time BY LEO WIENER ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF SLAVIC LANGUAGES AT HARVARD UNIVERSITY IN Two PARTS 8 with Photogravure Frontispieces PART I. From the Tenth Century to the Close of the Eighteenth Century PART II. From the Close of the Eighteenth Century to the Present Time G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS NEW YORK LONDON Anthology of Russian Literature :ie Earliest Period to the Present Time By Awstant Professor of Slavic Languages at HarvardUnivsrwtjr " Lording over many tongues, the Russian language surpasses all the others of Europe not only in the breadth of territory over which it rules, but also in its own extent and wealth. One may find in it the magnificence of the Spanish, the vivaiJftyTWOtlv: French, the force of the German, the tenderness of the Italian, and, besides, the wealth and the express!^ brevity of the Greek and ury G. P. Putnam's Sons New London TIbe lui r press 1902 From the Earliest Period to the Present Time By Leo Wiener Assistant Professor of Slavic Languages at Harvard University IN TWO PARTS >, * From the Tenth Century to the Close of the Eighteenth Century G. P. Putnam's Sons New York and London ttbe Knickerbocker press 1902 COPYRIGHT, 1902 BY LEO WI8NBH. Published, June, 1902 Knickerbocker preee, tlew Bort TO MY FRIEND AND COLLEAGUE ARCHIBALD GARY COOLIDGE THIS WORK IS GRATEFULLY DEDICATED PREFACE THE time is not far off when the Russian language will occupy the same place in the curriculum of Ameri- can universities that it now does in those of Germany, France and Sweden. A tongue that is spoken by more than one hundred million people and that encompasses one- half of the northern hemisphere in itself invites the attention of the curious and the scholar. But the points of contact between the Anglo-Saxon and Slavic races are so many, both in politics and literature, that it is a matter of interest, if not yet of necessity, for every cultured person of either national- ity to become well acquainted with the intellectual and social life of the other. In Russia, the English language is steadily gaining in importance, and not only the universities, but the gymnasiums as well, offer courses in English. In England and America there are many signs of a similar interest in their Russian neighbour, though at present it expresses itself mainly in the perusal of Russian novels in translations that rarely rise above mediocrity. There is also a growing de- mand for a fuller treatment of Russian Literature as a whole, which even Prince Wolkonsky's work cannot satisfy, for the reason that only a small fraction of the nineteenth-century writers, and hardly anything of the preceding periods, is accessible to the reader for verification. It is the purpose of this Anthology to render a concise, yet sufficient, account of Russian Literature in its totality, to give to the English reader who is not acquainted with any other language than his own a biographical, critical and bibliographical sketch of every important author, to offer representative extracts of what there is best in the language in such a manner as to vi Preface give a correct idea of the evolution of Russian Literature from its remotest time. The selections have been chosen so as to illustrate certain important historical events, and will be found of use also to the historical student. In the preparation of this work, I have availed myself of many native sources, to which I shall express my indebted- ness by a general declaration that I have with profit perused the monumental works of Pypin and the authors on whom he has drawn in the preparation of his history of Russian Liter- ature. To give variety, I have reproduced such of the exist- ing translations as are less objectionable. In my own trans- lations, for which alone I am responsible, I have attempted to render minutely the originals, with their different styles, not excepting their very imperfections, such as characterise particularly the writers of the eighteenth century. Only where the diction is inexpressibly crude, as in Pososhk6v's writings, or the text corrupt, as in the Word of Igor's Arma- ment, have I made slight deviations for the sake of clearness. Russian words are transliterated differently by every trans- lator: some attempt to give English equivalents, which, even if they were correctly chosen (they seldom are), cannot pos- sibly give an idea of the phonetic values in Russian ; others follow the simpler method of an etymological transliteration of letter by letter, but needlessly encumber the words with diacritical marks and difficult consonant combinations. The method pursued here, though far from ideal, recommends itself for its simplicity. Where the Russian and English alphabets are practically identical, the corresponding letters are used; in the other cases, the combinations are made with A, for which there is no corresponding sound in Russian ; for the guttural vowel y is used, which does also the duty of the English^ in yes. There can be no confusion between the two, as the guttural y before or after a vowel is extremely rare. It is useless for anyone without oral instruction to try to pronounce Russian words as the natives do. The nearest approach will be attained if the consonants be pronounced as in English (jf always hard, zh as z in azure, r always rolled, kh, guttural like German ch in acK), and the vowels Preface vii always open as in Italian (a as a \nfar, e as e in set, o as o in obey, or a little longer when accented, u as oo in foot, or a little longer when accented, y between consonants is guttural, which it is useless to attempt and had better be pronounced like i : i. e., like i in machine or bit, according to the accent). The accents are indicated throughout the work. Accented ^is frequently pronounced asyfi, but it would be useless to indicate all such cases. It has not been found practicable to spell Russian names uniformly when their English forms are universally accepted. It will not be uninteresting to summarise all that English- men and Americans have done to acquaint their countrymen with the language and literature of Russia. When Russia was rediscovered by England in the middle of the sixteenth century and the Muscovy Company estab- lished itself at Moscow, there was naturally a demand for Englishmen who could speak Russian. There are frequent references in native reports to Englishmen who spoke and wrote Russian fluently and who were even used as ambas- sadors to the Muscovite Tsars. It was also an Englishman, Richard James, who, in 1619, made the "first collection of Russian popular songs. In 1696, the first Russian grammar was published by the Oxford University Press, though its author, Ludolf, was not an Englishman by birth. In the eighteenth century, there seems to have been in England no interest in Russia except as to its religion, which received consideration from certain divines. An exception must be made in the case of W. Coxe, who in his Travels in Poland, Russia, Sweden and Denmark, ist edition, London, 1784, gave an excellent account of Russian Literature from German and French sources. In 1821, Sir John Bowring startled his countrymen with his Specimens of the Russian Poets, which for the first time revealed to them the existence of a promis- ing literature. Though his knowledge of Russian was quite faulty, as his translations prove, yet he put the poems into such pleasing verses that they became deservedly popular. A second edition followed the same year, and a second part two years later. viii Preface The impulse given by Sir John Bowring found a ready response in the periodic press of that time. In 1824 the Westminster Review brought out an article on Politics and Literature of Russia, which gave a short review of eighteenth- century literature. In 1827, R. P. Gillies gave a good sketch of Russian Literature in vol. i of the Foreign Quarterly Re- view, based on the Russian work of Grech. The same year, the Foreign Review brought out a short account, and the next year an elaborate article on Russian Literature and Poetry, also after Grech, which for some decades formed the basis of all the articles and chapters dealing with the same subject in the English language. The Foreign Quarterly Review brought out similar matter in vol. viii, xxi, xxiii, xxix, xxx. But more interesting than these, which are nearly all fashioned after some Russian articles, are the excellent literary notes in every number, that kept the readers informed on the latest productions that appeared in Russia. There seems hardly to have been a public for these notes in England, and indeed they get weaker with the twenty-fourth volume, and die of inanity in the thirtieth. This early period of magazine articles is brought to an end by Russian Literary Biography, in vol. xxxvi (1841) of the Westminster Review. The example set by Sir John Bowring found several im- itators. We have several anthologies, generally grouping themselves around Pushkin, for the first half of the century: W. H. Saunders, Poetical Translations from the Russian Lan- guage, London, 1826; [George Borrow], The Talisman, with Other Pieces, St. Petersburg, 1835; W. D. Lewis, The Bak- chesarian Fountain, and Other Poems, Philadelphia, 1849. The Foreign Quarterly Review brought out in 1832 transla- tions from Batyushkov, Pushkin, and Rylye"ev, and in Black- wood's Edinburgh Magazine for 1845 T. B. Shaw gave some excellent translations of Pushkin's poems. Other articles, treating individual authors, will be mentioned in their respective places. While these meagre accounts of Russian Literature, at second hand, and the scanty anthologies were appearing, Preface ix there was published in the Biblical Repository of Andover, Mass., in 1834, the remarkable work by Talvi, the wife of Dr. Edward Robinson, entitled: Historical View of the Lan- guages and Literatures of the Slavic Nations, and this was republished in book-form, and enlarged, in New York, in 1850. Though there existed some special works by Slavic scholars, Talvi' s was the first to encompass the whole field in a scholarly and yet popular manner. It is authoritative even now in many departments that have not been over- thrown by later investigations, and it is a matter of surprise that none of the later English writers should have based their Russian Literatures on this important work, or should have proceeded in the path of Slavic studies which she had so beautifully inaugurated. There is no excuse for G. Cox's translation of F. Otto's History of Russian Literature, with a Lexicon of Russian Authors, which appeared at Oxford in 1839, and adds a number of its own inaccuracies to the blunders of the German original. Nor is there any notice taken of Talvi in [C. F. Henningsen's] Eastern Europe and the Emperor Nicholas, London, 1846, which gives a chapter on Russian Literature, mainly on Pushkin. In the sixties W. R. Morfill began to translate some poems from the Russian, and towards the end of that decade, but especially in the next, Ralston published his excellent studies on the Folksongs and Folktales and Kryl6v, and in the Contemporary Review, vols. xxiii and xxvii, two articles on the Russian Idylls. The magazines that in' the seventies reviewed Russian Literature got everything at second hand, and are of little value: National Quarterly Review, vol. xxiv (1872); Catholic World, vol. xxi (1875); Harper's Magazine, 1878. Of books there were issued: Sutherland Edwards's The Russians at Home, London, 1861, a very useful work for contemporary literature, and F. R. Grahame's The Progress of Science, Art and Literature in Russia, London [1865], which contains a great deal of interesting material badly arranged and ill-digested. The chapter on Literature in O. W. Wahl's The Land of the Czar, London, 1875, is unim- portant. x Preface Since the eighties there have appeared a number of translations from good foreign authors bearing on Russian Literature: Ernest Dupuy, The Great Masters of Russian Literature in the Nineteenth Century, translated by N. H. Dole, New York [1886]; E. M. de Vogue", The Russian Novelists, translated by J. It. Edmands, Boston [1887]; Dr. George Brandes, Impressions of Russia, translated by S. C. Eastman, New York, 1889; E. P. Bazdn, Russia: Its People and its Literature, translated by F. H. Gardiner, Chicago, 1890. The following more or less original works will be found useful: W. R. Morfill, Slavonic Literature, London, 1883, and The Story of Russia, New York and London, 1890; also his The Peasant Poets of Russia (Reprint from Westminster Review), London, 1880; C. E. Turner, Studies in Russian Literature, London, 1882, and before, in Fraser's Magazine for 1877; Ivan Panin, Lectures in Russian Literature, New York and London, 1889; Memorials of a Short Life: A Biographical Sketch of W. F. A. Gaussen (chapter on The Russian People and their Literature}, London, 1895; Prince Serge Wolkonsky, Pictures of Russian History and Russian Literature (Lowell Lectures), Boston, New York and Lon- don, 1897; K. Waliszewski, A History of Russian Literature, New York, 1900, but this work must be used with extreme caution, on account of the many inaccuracies it contains. W. M. Griswold's Tales Dealing with Life in Russia, Cam- bridge, 1892, is a fair bibliography of all the prose translations that have appeared in the English language before 1892. But few anthologies have of late seen daylight: C. T. Wil- son, Russian Lyrics in English Verse, London, 1887; John Pollen, Rhymes from the Russian, London, 1891 (a good little book); E. L. Voynich, The Humour of Russia, London and New York, 1895. The periodical " Free Russia," pub- lished in London since 1890, contains some good translations from various writers and occasionally some literary essay ; but the most useful periodic publication is "The Anglo- Russian Literary Society," published in London since 1892, and containing valuable information on literary subjects, Preface xi especially modern, and a series of good translations from contemporary poets. Nor must one overlook the articles in the encyclopedias, of which those in Johnson's Cyclopedia are especially good. Very exhaustive statements of the modern literary move- ment in Russia appear from year to year in the Athenaeum. More or less good articles on modern literature, mainly the novel, have appeared since 1880 in the following volumes of the periodical press: Academy, xxi and xxiii; Bookman, viii; Chautauquan, viii and xxii; Critic, iii; Current Liter- ature, xxii; Dial, xx; Eclectic Magazine, cxv; Forum, xxviii; Leisure Hours, ccccxxv; Lippincott's, Iviii; Liter- ature,!; Living Age, clxxxv; Nation, Ixv; Public Opinion, xx ; Publisher's Weekly, liv; Temple Bar, Ixxxix. In conclusion, I desire to express my gratitude to my friends and colleagues who have aided me in this work: to Prof. A. C. Coolidge, for leaving at my disposal his collec- tion of translations from the Russian, and for many valuable hints; to Dr. F. N. Robinson, for reading a number of my translations; to Prof. G. L- Kittredge, to whom is largely due whatever literary merit there may be in the introduc- tory chapters and in the biographical sketches. I also take this occasion to thank all the publishers and authors from whose copyrighted works extracts have been quoted with their permission. CONTENTS PAGE PREFACE v A SKETCH OF RUSSIAN LITERATURE i I. The Oldest Period 3 II. The Folklore 18 III. The Eighteenth Century .26 THE OLDEST PERIOD . . . 39 Treaty with the Greeks (911) 41 Lukd Zhidydta (XI. c.) 44 Instruction to his Congregation 44 The Russian Code (XI. c.) 45 Ilari6n, Metropolitan of Kiev (XI. c.) . . . . .48 Eulogy on St. Vladimir 48 Vladimir Monomdkh (1053-1125) 50 His Instruction to his Children 51 Abbot Daniel, the Palmer (XII. c.). 56 Of the Holy Light, how it Descends from Heaven upon the Holy Sepulchre 56 Epilogue . . .61 Cyril, Bishop of Turov (XII. c.) 62 From a Sermon on the First Sunday after Easter . . 62 Nestor's Chronicle (XII. c.) 65 The Baptism of Vladimir and of all Russia ... 65 The Kiev Chronicle (XII. c.) 71 The Expedition of fgor Svyatosldvich against the Pdlovtses .72 The Word of Igor's Armament (XII. c.) .... 80 The Holy Virgin's Descent into Hell (XII. c.) . .96 Daniel the Prisoner (XIII. c.) ico Letter to Prince Yarosldv VseVolodovich . . . 101 Serapi6n, Bishop of Vladimir (XIII. c.) .... 104 A Sermon on Omens 104 The Zad6nshchina (XIV. c.) 106 xiv Contents PAGE Afanasi Nikitin (XV. c.) in Travel to India . ........ in Apocryphal Legends about King Solomon (XV. c.) . .114 The Story of Kitovras 114 Prince Kurbski (1528-1583) . . . . . . .115 The Storming of Kazan 116 Letter to Ivan the Terrible 118 Ivan the Terrible (1530-1584) 121 Letter to Prince Kurbski ....... 121 C?he Domostr6y (XVI. c.) 126 <>- How to Educate Children and Bring them up in the Fear of God 126 How to Teach Children and Save them through Fear . 127 How Christians are to Cure Diseases and all Kinds of Ailments ......... 128 The Wife is always and in all Things to Take Counsel with her Husband 128 How to Instruct Servants 129 Songs Collected by Richard James (1619-1620) . . . 130 Incursion of the Crimean Tartars ..... 131 The Song of the Princess Ksdniya Borisovna . . 132 The Return of Patriarch Filare"t to Moscow . . . 133 Krizhanich (1617-1677) ....... . 134 Political Reasons for the Union of the Churches . . 135 On Knowledge . . . . .. . . . 136 On Foreigners . . . .' . . . . . 136 Kotoshikhin (1630-1667) . . . . . -. .136 The Education of the Princes . . . - . 137 The Private Life of the Boydrs and of other Ranks . 139 Simeon P61otski (1629-1680) ....... 149 On the Birth of Peter the Great . . . . .150 An Evil Thought . . . . . . . .151 The Magnet 151 The Story of Misery Luckless-Plight (XVH. or XVIII. c.) . 152 THE FOI.KI.ORB . . . . . . . -:': .161 Epic Songs 163 Volkh Vsesldvevich . . . . . . . . 163 Hya of Murom and Nightingale the Robber . . . 165 Historical Songs 172 Ermdk . . . . . , . . . . 172 The Boydr's Execution . . . . . . . 174 The Storming of Azov ... . . . . 176 Folksongs . ......... 177 Kolyadka . . . . 178 Contents xv PAGE Bowl-Song 179 A Parting Scene , 179 The Dove 180 The Faithless Lover . 182 Elegy 182 The Farewell 183 Sing, O sing again, lovely lark of mine .... 184 Wedding Gear 185 The Sale of the Braid 185 Marriage Song 186 Beggars' Song 186 An Orphan's Wailing 187 Conjuration of a Mother 188 Fairy Tales 189 Frost 190 The Cat, the Goat and the Ram 195 The Fox and the Peasant 198 Proverbs 199 THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 203 Pososhk6v (1670-1726) ........ 205 On Merchants 205 On the Peasantry 209 Prokop6vich (1681-1763) . . . . . . . 211 The Spiritual Reglement 212 Funeral Sermon on Peter the Great .... 214 Tatishchev (1686-1750) 218 From the "Russian History " 219 Kantemir (1708-1744) 223 To my Mind 224 Tredyak6vski (1703-1769) 230 Ode on the Surrender of Dantzig 230 Princess Dolgoruki (1714-1771) ..'.... 233 From her "Memoirs" ....... 234 Lomon6sov (1711-1765) . . 241 Letters to I. I. Shuvalov . 242 Ode on the Capture of Khotin . . . . . 246 Morning Meditations 252 Evening Meditations 253 Sumar6kov (1718-1777) 254 The False Demetrius 255 Instruction to a Son 257 To the Corrupters of Language 260 The Helpful Gnat 260 Four Answers . 261 xvi Contents MM Vasfli MSykov (1728-1778) 263 The Battle of the Zimog6rans and Valdayans . . 263 The Cook and the Tailor 267 Danflov (1722-1790) 269 From his " Memoirs " . 269 Catherine the Great (1729-1796) 272 O Tetnpora 272 Prince Khlor 276 Shcherbdtov (1733-1790) , . .287 On the Corruption of Manners in Russia ... 287 Petr6v (1736-1799) 291 On the Victory of the Russian over the Turkish Fleet . 291 Kherdskov (1733-1807) 298 The Rossiad 298 Metropolitan Plat6n (1737-1812) 300 What are Idolaters ? 300 Address upon the Accession of Alexander I. . . . 304 Khe'tnnitser (1745-1784) 306 The Lion's Council of State 306 The Metaphysician 307 Knyazhnin (1742-1791) 308 Vadim of N6vgorod 309 Odd People 311 Princess Ddshkov (1743-1810) 316 The Establishment of a Russian Academy . . .316 Poroshin (1741-1769) 321 From his " Diary " 321 The Satirical Journals (1769-1774), and N6vikov (1744-1818). 326 From All Kinds of Things 328 Sound Reasoning Adorns a Man .... 329 From the Drone 332 Recipe for His Excellency Mr. Lacksense . . 332 The Laughing Democritos 333 From Heirs Post 335 From the Painter 337 Fon-Vizin (1744-1792) 341 The Minor 342 An Open-Hearted Confession 351 Letters to Count Pdnin 355 Kostr6v (1750-1796) 358 Letter to the Creator of the Ode in Praise of Felitsa . 359 Radishchev (1749-1802) . 361 Journey from St. Petersburg to Moscow .... 362 Ablesimov (1742-1783) 370 The Miller 370 Contents xvii PAGE Bogdan6vich (1743-1803) 374 Psyche. From Book 1 374 " II. . ... . . . 375 Derzhavin (1743-1816) 377 Ode to the Deity 379 Monody on Prince Meshche'rski 382 Felitsa 385 The Waterfall 390 The Storm 391 The Stream of Time 392 Neledfnski-Mele"tski (1752-1829) 392 To the Streamlet I '11 Repair 392 He whose Soul from Sorrow Dreary .... 394 MuraveV (1757-1807) 395 To the Goddess of the Neyd 395 Kapnist (1757-1824) 397 The Pettifoggery 398 Obtikhovka 402 On Julia's Death 404 Grib6vski (1766-1833) 405 From his " Memoirs " 405 Kamenev (1772-1803) 411 Gromval 412 Ozerov (1770-1816) 418 Dimitri Donsk6y 419 Prince Dolgordki (1764-1823) 422 The Legacy 422 My Moscow Fireplace 425 Dmitriev (1760-1837) 428 The Little Dove 429 During a Thunder-Storm 430 Ermak 431 What Others Say 436 Index . 441 A SKETCH OF RUSSIAN LITERATURE A SKETCH OF RUSSIAN LITERATURE I. THE ODDEST PERIOD OF the many Slavic nations and tribes that at one time occupied the east of Europe from the Elbe and the headwaters of the Danube to Siberia, and from the Ionic Sea to the Baltic and White Seas, some have entirely disappeared in the ruthless struggle with a superior German civilisation; others, like the Bulgarians and Servians, have paled into insignificance under the lethargic influence of the Crescent, to be fanned to life again within the memory of the present generation by a breath of national consciousness, which is the result of the Romantic Movement in European literature; others again like the Bohemians and Poles, rent asunder by fraternal discord and anarchy, have forfeited their national existence and are engaged in an unequal battle to regain it. Of all the Slavs, Russia alone has steadily gathered in the lands of the feudal lords, to shine at last as a power of the first magnitude among the sisterhood of states, and to scin- tillate hope to its racial brothers as the ' ' Northern Star. ' ' The unity of the Russian land was ever present to the minds of the writers in the earliest days of the appanages. The bard of the Word of Igor's Armament and Daniel the Palmer made appeals to the whole country and prayed for all the princes in the twelfth century, and for upwards of four centuries Moscow has been the centre towards which the outlying districts have been gravitating. Yet, in spite of so continuous and well-defined a political tendency, Rus- sia is the last of the Slavic nations to have evolved a liter- ature worthy of the name. Bohemia had a brilliant literature 3 4 A Sketch of Russian Literature of the Western stamp as early as the thirteenth century; Bulgaria had made a splendid start three centuries before, under the impulse of the newly introduced religion; the Servian city of Ragusa, receiving its intellectual leaven from its Italian vicinage, invested Petrarch and Dante with Serv- ian citizenship in the fifteenth century, and, shortly after, gloried in an epic of a Gundulic, and in a whole galaxy of writers; Poland borrowed its theology from Bohemia, took an active part in the medieval Latin literature, and boasted a golden age for its native language in the sixteenth century. Russia produced an accessible literature only in the second half of the eighteenth century, became known to Western Europe not earlier than the second quarter of the next, and had not gained universal recognition until within the last twenty-five years. In the case of the Western and Southern Slavs, a com- munity of interests, whether religious or social, has led to an intellectual intercourse with their neighbours, from whom they have received their models for imitation or adaptation. Without a favourable geographical position, or some com- mon bond with the external world, no nation can have a healthy development, especially in the incipient stage of its political existence. Blatant Slavophiles of fifty years ago heaped reproach on the reforms of Peter the Great, on the ground that they were fashioned upon Western ideals, and that he had retarded the evolution of Russia according to its inherent Slavic idea. There still survive men of that persuasion, though a comparative study of Russian literature long ago demonstrated that every step in advance has been made by conscious or unconscious borrowings from abroad. If there was a Russian literature previous to the introduction of Christianity, it certainly stood in some kind of relation to the literatures of the neighbours. The few extant treaties with the Greeks for that period show unmistakable Byzant- ine influences, and the Russian Code of Yarosldv, with its purely Norse laws, dates from a time when the Varydgs had not yet disappeared in the mass of the Slavic majority. With the introduction of Christianity, Russia, instead of A Sketch of Russian Literature 5 entering into closer communion with the rest of the world, was separated from it even more securely than before, and soon after, an intellectual stagnation began that lasted very nearly to the end of the seventeenth century. Various causes combined to produce this singular effect. Chief of these was its geographical position. Living in the vast eastern plain of Europe, which in itself would have been productive of a larger life, the Russian tribes had civilised neighbours on one side only. On the north they were separated from the Swedes by rude Finnish tribes; on the south, they had for centuries to contend against all the nomads, Pechenyegs, Cumanians, Khazars, who slowly pro- ceeded from Asia to central Europe to become lost in the nations to the south of the Carpathians and in the Balkan peninsula; in the east the Finns of the north met the Tar- tars of the south, and behind them lay unprofitable Asia. On the north-west, it is true, was the civilised Teutonic Order, but the inveterate hatred between these Germans and the Slavs prevented any intercommunication from that quarter. There was left Poland, through which Russia might issue into Europe; but savage Lithuania was wedged in between the two, so as to reduce still more the line of contact with the West. When Lithuania became civilised, and a part of Poland, the latter had grown suspicious of the youthful Ilyd of Murom who ' ' had sat thirty years upon the oven," and enunciated a political maxim that either Russia would have to become Polish, or else Poland Rus- sian. Knowing that there was no other exit for Russia, Poland permitted no light to reach it from the West. When England began to communicate with Russia in the sixteenth century, King Sigismund made an earnest appeal to Queen Elizabeth to stop sending skilled mechanics, lest the Colossus should awaken and become a danger to Europe. These external causes of Russia's aloofness were still more intensified by a systematic determination of Russia to keep out the Catholic contamination that would come from inter- course with Europe. This was a direct outgrowth of its adoption of Christianity from Byzantium, instead of Rome. 6 A Sketch of Russian Literature Cyril and Methodius, the apostles to the Slavs, were them- selves Bulgarians from Macedonia. When they first carried the new religion to Moravia and later to Bulgaria, they, no doubt, preached and wrote in the dialect with which they were most familiar. This innovation of preaching the gospel in another than one of the three sacred languages was a necessary departure, in order to win over the troublesome Slavs to the north of Byzantium. Though at the end of the ninth century the various dialects were already sufficiently dissimilar to constitute separate languages, yet they were not so distant from each other as to be a hindrance to a free intercommunication. When, a century later, Christianity was introduced into Russia from Constantinople, Bulgarian priests and bookmen were the natural intermediaries, and the Bulgarian language at once became the literary medium, to the exclusion of the native tongue. Soon after, the Eastern Church separated from Rome, and the Greek- Catholic clergy inculcated upon their neophytes an undying hatred of the Latins, as the Romanists were called. In Moscow, the slightest deviation from the orthodox faith was sufficient cause for suspecting a Romanist heresy, and anathemas against Roman-Catholics were frequent, but at Kiev, where the contact with Poland was inevitable, the disputes with the Latins form a prominent part of ecclesiasti- cal literature. To guard the country against any possible contagion, the punishment of Russians who crossed the bor- der, in order to visit foreign parts, was so severe, that few ever ventured out of the country. The seclusion of Russia was complete. Even under these difficulties, literature and the arts might have flourished, if Constantinople had been able to give to the new converts even its degraded Byzantine culture, or if there had not been other powerful causes that militated against a development from within. In the west of Europe the Latin language of the Church did not interfere with an early national literature. Latin was the language of the learned, whether clerical or lay, and mediated an intel- lectual intercourse between the most distant members of the A Sketch of Russian Literature 7 universal faith. At the same time, the native dialects had received an impulse before the introduction of Christianity, often under the influence of Rome, and they were left to shift for themselves and to find their votaries. The case was quite different in Russia. The Bulgarian language, which was brought in with the gospel, at once usurped on the native Russian to the great disadvantage of the latter. Being closely related to the spoken Russian, Bulgarian was easily acquired by the clergy, but it was not close enough to become the literary language of the people. On the one hand, this new gospel language could at best connect Russia with Byzantium by way of Bulgaria; on the other, Russian was looked down upon as a rude dialect and was discouraged, together with every symptom of the popular creation which was looked upon as intimately connected with ancient paganism. This Bulgarian language was not long preserved in its purity. Detached from its native home, it was immediately transformed in pronunciation, so as to conform to the spoken Russian ; thus, for example, it at once lost its nasals, which were not familiar to the Russian ear. In the course of time, words and constructions of the people's language found their way into the Church-Slavic, as the Bulgarian was then more properly called. Naturally, many words, referring to ab- stract ideas and the Church, passed from the Bulgarian into the spoken tongue. Thus, the two dialects, one the arbitrary literary language, the other, the language of every-day life, approached each other more and more. At the present time, the Russian of literature contains a large proportion of these Church-Slavic words ; the language of the Bible and the liturgy is the Church-Slavic of the sixteenth century, which differs so much from the original Bulgarian that, though a Russian reads with comparative ease this Church-Slavic, he has to study Bulgarian as a German would study Old Ger- man. This Church-Slavic of the Russian redaction has also been, and still is, in part, the ecclesiastical language of the other Greek-Catholic countries of the Slavs. Some time passed before Russia could furnish its own 8 A Sketch of Russian Literature clergy. All the leading places in the Church were at first filled with Bulgarians and Greeks who were steeped in Byzantine religious lore. The Church at Constantinople stood in direct opposition to the classical traditions of Greece. These were not separated from the old heathenism, and to the luxury and voluptuousness of medieval Greece, which was ascribed to classical influences, the Church opposed asceticism and self-abnegation. Monasticism was preached as the ideal of the religious life, and arts and sciences had no place in the scheme of the Church. Theo- logy and rhetoric were the only sciences which the hermit practised in his cell, in the moments that were free from prayer and self-castigation. And it is only the Church's sciences that ancient Russia inherited from Byzantium. The civil intercourse between the two countries was very slight, and the few Russian ecclesiastics who visited Mount Athos and the Holy Land brought back with them at best a few legends and apocryphal writings. The Byzantine influ- ence at home showed itself in a verbal adherence to the Bible and the Church Fathers, and an occasional attempt at pulpit oratory in the bombastic diction of contemporary Greece. Not a science penetrated into ancient Russia. Historically the rest of the world did not exist for it, and geographically it was only of interest in so far as it came into contact with Russia: Russia knew more of Tartars and Cumanians than of Germany or France. Arithmetic, not to speak of mathe- matics, and physics, medicine and engineering, were un- known before the sixteenth century, and then only when a few foreigners practised these arts in the capital and at the Court. The only literature that reached Russia was the legendary lore of the South and West, through Bulgaria and Poland, generally at a time when it had long been forgotten elsewhere : thus, the L,ucidarius and Physiologus were ac- cepted as genuine bits of zoological and botanical science, long after sober knowledge had taken possession of the uni- versities of the world. The literature of Russia before Peter the Great is by no means meagre or uninteresting, but it lacks an important element of historical continuity ; in fact, A Sketch of Russian Literature 9 it is devoid of every trace of chronology. What was written in the twelfth century might with equal propriety be the product of the sixteenth, and vice versa, and the productions of the earliest time were copied out as late as the seventeenth century, and relished as if they had just been written. Where a certain literary document has come down to us in a later copy, it is not possible to date it back, unless it con- tains some accidental indication of antiquity. In short, there was no progress in Russia for a period of six or seven centuries, from the tenth century to the seventeenth. In this achronism of literary history, there may, however, be discerned two periods that are separated from each other by the first invasion of the Tartars. Previous to that mo- mentous event, Kiev formed the chief intellectual and politi- cal centre of the Russian principalities. Here the Norse traditions, which had been brought by the Varydg warriors, had not entirely faded away in the century following the introduction of Christianity, and the Court maintained cert- ain relations with the rest of the world, as in the case of Yaroslav, who was related, by the marriage of his children, to the Courts of Norway, France, Germany and Hungary. On the other hand, Vladimir's heroes were celebrated abroad, and Ilya of Murom is not unknown to German tradition and the Northern saga. Not only its favourable geographical position, but its climate as well, inspired the inhabitants of Kiev with a greater alacrity, even as the little-Russians of to-day have developed less sombre characteristics than the Great-Russians of the sterner north. It is sufficient to com- pare the laconic instructions of L/uka Zhidydta in the commer- cial N6vgorod with the flowery style of Serapi6n's sermon, or the dry narrative of the northern chronicles with the elab- orate adornment of the stories in the chronicles of Nestor and Sylvester, to become aware of the fundamental difference between the two sections of Russia. The twelfth century, rich in many aspects of literature, including that beautiful prose poem of popular origin, the Word of Igor's Armament, gave ample promise of better things to come. Similarly, the bylinas of the Vladimir cycle, the best and most numerous io A Sketch of Russian Literature of all that are preserved, point to an old poetic tradition that proceeded from Kfev. The fact that these bylinas have been lately discovered in the extreme north-east, in the Government of Ol6netsk, while not a trace of them has been found in their original home, has divided the scholars of Russia into two camps. Some assert that all the Russians of Kiev belonged to the Great-Russian division, and that the Tartar invasion de- stroyed most of them, and caused the rest to migrate to the north, whither they carried their poetry. The Little-Rus- sians that now occupy the south of Russia are supposed by these scholars to have come from Galicia to repeople the abandoned places. The Little- Russians themselves claim, with pardonable pride, to be the direct descendants of the race that gave Russia its N6stor and the bard of the Word of Igor's Armament. There are weighty arguments on both sides, and both the Great-Russians, with whom we are at present concerned, and the Little-Russians, or Ruthenians, who have developed a literature in their own dialect, claim that old literature as their own. The terrible affliction of the Mongol invasion marks, on the one hand, the beginning of the concentration of Russia around Moscow, and, on the other, accentuates more strongly the barren activities of the Russian mind for the next few centuries. Historians have been wont to dwell on the Tartar domination as the chief cause of Russian stagnation, but the calmer judgment of unbiassed science must reject that ver- dict. It is true, the Tartars carried ruin to all the Russian land, but after every successful raid, they withdrew to their distant camps, ruling the conquered land merely by exacting tribute and homage from its princes. The Tartars in no way interfered with the intellectual and religious life of the people; on the contrary, they mingled freely with the sub- ject nation, and intermarriages were common. It has al- ready been pointed out that the germ of unprogressiveness was older than the invasion, that the Byzantine religious culture was the real cause of it. That Moscow was even less progressive than Kiev is only natural. All its energies A Sketch of Russian Literature 1 1 were bent on political aggrandisement, on throwing off the hated Tartar yoke, and it was farther removed from Europe than the more fortunate southern metropolis. All these conditions were unfavourable to the practice of the gentler arts. The religious lore of ancient Russia was derived from the gospel, which was hardly ever accessible in continuous form, but only as an aprakos, i. dy&chi) in the Department of Legations, a kind of Foreign Office. He had been frequently employed as an ambassador in connection with various treaties between Russia and Sweden and Poland. While at Moscow, he had been guilty of some dishonesty to his own country by giving certain secrets of State to the Swedish ambassador ; but that was an Grigori Kotoshikhin 137 offence not uncommon at Moscow, where patriotism was seldom of a disinterested character. In 1664 he was sent out with the Russian army that was then operating against Poland. Shortly after, its two generals, Cherkdsski and Prozor6vski, were recalled, and Dolgoruki was sent in their place. The latter tried to get Kotoshikhin's aid in denouncing his two predecessors for traitorous actions, but Kotosh- ikhin refused. Fearing the wrath of Dolgoruki, he fled, first to Poland, and then, through Prussia and Lubeck, to Sweden. He settled in Stockholm, where he was employed in a semi-official ca- pacity in the Foreign Office. In a fit of intoxication he killed his host, who was the official Russian translator of Sweden, and for this crime he was beheaded. Kotoshikhin had evidently formed the plan of writing about Russian customs before his arrival in Stockholm, but he was also encouraged by distinguished Swedish statesmen, who hoped to find important information about Russia in his work. In his capacity of Legation scribe Kotoshikhin had an excellent opportunity to become intimately acquainted with the immediate surroundings of the Tsar ; but he supplemented his knowledge by a clear insight, which he had gained in his intercourse with other nations. There is no other work of Old Russia that gives so detailed an account of contemporary society. Kotoshikhin's work was -first discovered in 1840, though several manuscript translations in Swedish were known to be extant in various libraries. THE EDUCATION OF THE PRINCES FROM CHAP. I. For the bringing up of the TsareVich or TsareVna they select from among the women of all ranks a good, pure, sweet-tempered and healthy woman, and that woman resides for a year in the Upper Palace, in the apartments of the Tsaritsa. At the expiration of the year, the husband of that woman, if she be of noble origin, is made governor of a city, or receives some lands in perpetuity; if she be a scribe's, or some other serving-man's wife, he is promoted and granted a goodly salary ; if he be a countryman, he is given a good sum, and both are freed from the taxes and other imposts of the Tsar during their whole lives. The Tsarevich and TsareVna have also a chief-nurse to look after them, a distinguished boydr's wife, an old widow, and a nurse and other servants. When the Tsare" vich reaches the 138 The Oldest Period age of five, he is put in the keeping of a renowned boydr, a quiet and wise man, and the latter has for a companion a man from the lower ranks; they also choose from among the children of the boyars a few of the same age as the TsareVich, to be his servants and butlers. When the time arrives to teach the TsareVich to read and write, they select teachers from the instructed people, who are of a quiet dis- position and not given to drinking; the teacher of writing is chosen from among the Legation scribes; they receive in- struction in Russia in no other language, neither Latin, Greek, German nor any other, except Russian. The Tsar6viches and TsareVnas have each separate apart- ments and servants to look after them. No one is permitted to see the TsareVich before his fifteenth year, except those people who serve him, and the boyars and Near People ' ; but after fifteen years he is shown to all people, as his father goes with him to church or to entertainments. When the people find out that he has been presented, they come on purpose from many cities to get a look at him. As the TsareViches, when they are young, and the elder and younger TsareVnas go to church, there are borne cloth screens all around them, so that they cannot be seen; like- wise, they cannot be seen when they stand in church, ex- cept by the clergy, for they are surrounded in church with taffeta, and there are few people in church during that time but boyars and Near People. Similarly, when they travel to the monasteries to pray, their carriages are covered with taffeta. For their winter rides, the Tsaritsa and TsareVnas use kaptdnas, that is, sleighs in the shape of small huts that are covered with velvet or red cloth, with doors at both sides, with mica windows and taffeta curtains; for their sum- mer rides they use kolymagas that are also covered with cloth ; these are entered by steps and are made like simple carts on wheels, and not like carriages that hang down on leather straps. These kolymdgas and kaptanas have two shafts, and are without an axle; only one horse is hitched in them, with other horses in tandem. 1 A division of nobility below the boyars. Grig6ri Kotoshikhin 139 THE PRIVATE LIFE OF THE BOYlRS AND OF OTHER RANKS (CHAP. 13) Boy&rs and Near People live in their houses, both of stone and wood, that are not well arranged; their wives and children live all in separate rooms. Only a few of the greater boyars have their own churches in their courts; and those of the high and middle boy&rs who have no churches of their own, but who are permitted to have priests at their houses, have the matins and vespers and other prayers said in their own apartments, but they attend mass in any church they may choose; they never have the mass in their own houses. The boyars and Near People pay their priests a yearly salary, according to agreement; if the priests are married people, they receive a monthly allowance of food and drink, but the widowed priests eat at the same table with their boyars. On church holidays, and on other celebrations, such as name days, birthdays and christenings, they frequently celebrate together. It is their custom to prepare simple dishes, without season- ing, without berries, or sugar, without pepper, ginger or other spices, and they are little salted and without vinegar. They place on the table one dish at a time; the other dishes are brought from the kitchen and are held in the hands by the servants. The dishes that have little vinegar, salt and pepper are seasoned at the table; there are in all fifty to one hundred such dishes. The table manners are as follows: before dinner the hosts order their wives to come out and greet their guests. When the women come, they place themselves in the hall, or room, where the guests are dining, at the place of honour, 1 and the guests stand at the door; the women greet the guests with the small salute, 8 but the guests bow to the ground. Then the host makes a low obeisance to his guests and bids them kiss his wife. At the request of his guests, the host kisses 1 In the front corner, under the holy images. * Bending as far as the girdle. 140 The Oldest Period his wife first; then the guests make individual bows and, stepping forward, kiss his wife and, walking back again, bow to her once more; she makes the small salute each time she kisses a guest. Then the hostess brings each guest a glass of double- or treble-spiced brandy, the size of the glass being a fourth, or a little more, of a quart. The host makes as many low obeisances as there are guests, asking each one in particular to partake of the brandy which his wife is offering them. By the request of the guests, the host bids his wife to drink first, then he drinks himself, and then the guests are served ; the guests make a low obeisance before drinking, and also after they have drunk and as they re- turn the glass. To those that do not drink brandy, a cup of Rumney or Rhine wine, or some other liquor, is offered. After this drinking the hostess makes a bow to the guests and retires to her apartments to meet her guests, the wives of the boydrs. The hostess and the wives of the guests never dine with the men, except at weddings; an exception is also made when the guests are near relatives and there are no outsiders present at the dinner. During the dinner, the host and guests drink after every course a cup of brandy, or Rumney or Rhine wine, and spiced and pure beer, and vari- ous kinds of meads. When they bring the round cakes to the table, the host's daughters-in-law, or married daughters, or the wives of near relatives come into the room, and the guests rise and, leaving the table, go to the door and salute the women; then the husbands of the women salute them, and beg the guests to kiss their wives and drink the wine they offer. The guests comply with their request and re- turn to the table, while the women go back to their apart- ments. After dinner the host and guests drink more freely each other's healths, and drive home again. The boydrs' wives dine and drink in the same manner in their own apart- ments, where there are no men present. When a boydr or Near Man is about to marry off his son, or himself, or a brother, or nephew, or daughter, or sister, or niece, he, having found out where there is a marriageable girl, sends his friends, men or women, to the father of that Grig6ri Kotoshikhin 141 girl, to say that such and such a one had sent them to in- quire whether he would be willing to give his daughter or relative to him or his relative, and what the girl's dowry would be in the trousseau, money, patrimony and serfs. If the person addressed is willing to give him his daughter, or relative, he replies to the inquiry that he intends to marry off the girl, only he has to consider the matter with his wife and family, and that he will give a definite answer on a cer- tain day ; but if he does not wish to give him the girl, know- ing that he is a drunkard, or fast, or has some other bad habit, he will say at once that he will not give him the girl, or he will find some excuse for refusing the request. Having taken counsel with his wife and family, and hav- ing decided to give him the girl, he makes a detailed list of her dowry, in money, silver and other ware, dresses, patri- mony and serfs, and sends it to the people who had come to him from the prospective bridegroom, and they, in their turn, take it to the bridegroom. Nothing is told of the matter to the prospective bride, who remains in ignorance thereof. The dowry of the bride appearing satisfactory, the groom sends his people to the bride's parents, to ask them to present the girl. The bride's parents reply that they are willing to show their daughter, only not to the prospective groom, but to his father, mother, sister or near female rela- tive, in whom the groom may have special confidence. On the appointed day the groom sends his mother or sister to inspect the bride; the bride's parents make preparations for that day, attire their daughter in a fine garment, invite their relatives to dinner, and seat their daughter at the table. When the inspectress arrives, she is met with the honour due her, and is placed at the table near the bride. Sitting at the table, the inspectress converses with the girl on all kinds of subjects, in order to try her mind and manner of speech, and closely watches her face, eyes and special marks, in order to bring a correct report to the bridegroom ; having stayed a short time, she returns to the bridegroom. If the inspectress takes no liking to the bride, having discovered that she is silly, or homely, or has imperfect eyes, or is lame, 142 The Oldest Period or a poor talker, and so reports to the groom, he gives her up, and that is the last of it. But if the bride has found fa- vour in the inspectress's eyes, and she tells the groom that the girl is good and clever, and perfect in speech and all things, the groom sends his former friends again to the girl's parents, telling them that he likes their daughter, and that he wishes to come to a parley to write the marriage contract, in order to marry her on a certain date. The bride's parents send word to the groom through his trusted people that he should come to the parley with a few of his friends in whom he has most confidence on a certain day, in the forenoon or afternoon. On the appointed day the groom puts on his best clothes, and drives with his father, or near relatives, or friends whom he loves best to the bride's parents. Upon arrival, the bride's parents and her near relatives meet them with due honour, after which they go into the house and seat them- selves according to rank. Having sat a while, the groom's father or other relative remarks that they have come for the good work, as he has bid them; the host answers that he is glad to see them, and that he is ready to take up the mat- ter. Then both sides begin to discuss all kinds of marriage articles and to set the day for the wedding according to how soon they can get ready for it, in a week, a month, half a year, a year, or even more. Then they enter their names and the bride's name and the names of witnesses in the marriage contract, and it is agreed that he is to take the girl on a cer- tain date, without fail, and that the girl is to be turned over to him on that date, without fail ; and it is provided in that contract that if the groom does not take the girl on the ap- pointed day, or the father will not give him his daughter on that day, the offending party has to pay 1000, or 5000, or 10,000 roubles, as the agreement may be. Having stayed a while, and having eaten and drunk, they return home, with- out having seen the bride, and without the bride having seen the groom ; but the mother, or married sister, or wife of some relative comes out to present the groom with some embroid- ery from the bride. Grig6ri Kotoshikhin 143 If after that parley the groom finds out something preju- dicial to the bride, or someone interested in the groom tells him that she is deaf, or mute, or maimed, or has some other bad characteristic, and the groom does not want to take her, and the parents of the bride complain about it to the Pat- riarch that he has not taken the girl according to the mar- riage articles, and does not want to take her, and thus has dishonoured her; or the bride's parents, having found out about the groom that he is a drunkard, or diceplayer, or maimed, or has done something bad, will not give him their daughter, and the groom complains to the Patriarch, the Patriarch institutes an inquiry, and the fine is collected from the guilty party according to the contract, and is given to the groom or bride, as the case may be; and then both may marry whom they please. But if both parties carry out their agreement, and get ready for the wedding on the appointed day, then the groom invites to the wedding his relatives and such other people as he likes, to be his ceremonial guests, in the same manner as I described before about the Tsar's wedding ' ; on the part of the bride the guests are invited in the same way. On the 1 " The wedding ceremony is as follows : on the Tsar's side the first order is the father and mother, or those who are in place of his par- ents ; the second order, the travellers, the chief priest with the cross, the thousand-man, who is a great personage in that procession, and then the Tsar : eight boydrs. The duties of the travellers are as fol- lows : they stay with the Tsar and Tsaritsa at the crowning in church, and at the table occupy higher places than the others ; the friends (druzhka), whose duty it is to call the guests to the wedding, to make speeches at the wedding in the name of the thousand-man and Tsar, and to carry presents ; the bride* smaids (svdkha) whose duty it is to watch the Tsaritsa, to dress her and undress her ; the candleholder, who holds the candle when they get the Tsaritsa ready for the crowning ; the breadholders, who carry the bread on litters to and from church (these litters are covered with gold velvet and em- broidered cloth and sable furs ; the equerry with his suite. The third order is the sitting boyars, twelve men and twelve women, who sit as guests at the tables, with the Tsar's parents, but do not go to church with the Tsar. The fourth order is of the court, who attend to the food and drink." 144 The Oldest Period day of the wedding tables are set at the houses of the groom and bride, and the word being given the groom that it is time to fetch the bride, they all set out according to the ceremonial rank: First the bread-men carry bread on a tray, then, if it be summer, the priest with the cross rides on horseback, but in winter in a sleigh; then follow the boyars, the thousand-man, and the groom. Having reached the court of the bride's house, they enter the hall in ceremonial order, and the bride's father and his guests meet them with due honour, and the order of the wedding is the same as described in the Tsar's wedding. When the time arrives to drive to church to perform the marriage, the bride' smaids ask her parents to give the groom and bride their blessing for the marriage. They bless them with words, but before leaving bless them with a holy image, and, taking their daughter's hand, give her to the groom. Then the ceremonial guests, the priest, and the groom with his bride, whose hand he is holding, go out of the hall, and her parents and their guests accompany them to the court ; the groom places the bride in a kolymaga or kaptana, mounts a horse, or seats himself in a sleigh; the ceremonial guests do likewise, and all drive to the church where they are to be married. The bride's parents and their guests re- turn to the hall, where they eat and drink until news is brought from the groom ; the bride is accompanied only by her own and the bridegroom's go-betweens. The two hav- ing been united, the whole troop drives to the groom's house, and news is sent to the bride's father that they have been propitiously married. When they arrive at the groom's court, the groom's parents and their guests meet them, and the parents, or those who are in their stead, bless them with the images, and offer them bread and salt, and then all seat themselves at the table and begin to eat, according to the ceremony; and then the bride is unveiled. The next morning the groom drives out with the bride' s- maid to call the guests, those of his and the bride's, to dinner. When he comes to the bride's parents, he thanks them for Grig6ri Kotoshikhin 145 their having well brought up their daughter, and for having given her to him in perfect health; after having made the round to all the guests, he returns home. When all the guests have arrived, the bride offers gifts to all the cere- monial guests. Before dinner the groom goes with all the company to the palace to make his obeisance to the Tsar. Having arrived in the presence of the Tsar, all make a low obeisance, and the Tsar, without taking off his cap, asks the married couple's health. The groom bows to the ground, and then the Tsar congratulates those who are united in legitimate wedlock, and blesses the married pair with images, and he presents them with forty sables, and for their gar- ments a bolt of velvet, and atlas, and gold-coloured silk, and calamanco, and simple taffeta, and a silver vessel, a pound and a half to two pounds in weight, to each of them ; but the bride is not present at the audience. Then the Tsar offers the thousand-man, and bridegroom, and the ceremonial guests a cup of Rumney wine, and then a pitcher of cherry wine, and after they have emptied their wine the Tsar dismisses them. After arriving home, they begin to eat and drink, and after the dinner the parents and guests bless the married couple with images and make them all kinds of presents, and after dinner the guests drive home. On the third day, the bride and groom and the guests go to dinner to the bride's parents, with all their guests, and after the dinner the bride's parents and their guests make presents to the married couple, and they drive home; and that is the end of the festivity. During the time that the groom is in the presence of the Tsar, the bride sends in her name presents to the Tsaritsa and TsareVnas, tidies of taffeta, worked with gold and silver and pearls; the Tsaritsa and TsareVnas accept these gifts, and send to inquire about the bride's health. During all the wedding festivities, no women are present, and there is no music, except blowing of horns and beating of drums. The proceeding is the same when a widowed daughter, or VOL. I. 10. 146 The Oldest Period sister, or niece is married off : the ceremonial and the festivity are the same. In the beginning of the festivity, the priest who is to marry the pair receives from the Patriarch and the authori- ties a permit, with the seal attached to it, to marry them, having first ascertained that the bride and groom are not re- lated by sponsorship, nor by the ties of consanguinity in the sixth and seventh generation, nor that he is the husband of a fourth wife, nor she the wife of a fourth husband; but if he discover that they are related by sponsorship, and so forth, he is not allowed to marry them. Should the priest permit such an unlawful marriage to take place, with his knowledge or without his knowledge, he would be dis- charged from his priesthood and, if he was knowingly guilty, he has to pay a big fine, and the authorities lock him up for a year; but the married pair is divorced, without being fined, except the sin which they have incurred, and if they have not been previously married three times, they may marry again. If a widower wants to marry a maiden, the ceremonial at the wedding is the same, but during the wreathing in church the wreath is placed on the groom's right shoulder, whereas the bride wears her wreath upon her head; if a widower for the third time marries a maiden, the ceremonial is the same, but the wreath is placed on the groom's left shoulder, and the bride wears hers upon her head. The same is done when a widow marries for the second or third time. But when a widower marries for the second or third time a widow, then there is no wreathing, and only a prayer is said instead of the wreathing, and the wedding ceremonial is different from the one mentioned above. The manner of the parley, marriage and ceremonial wed- ding is the same with the lower orders of the nobility as de- scribed above, and the wedding is as sumptuous as they can afford to make it, but they do not call upon the Tsar, except those of his retinue. Among the merchants and peasants the parley and the ceremonial are exactly the same, but they differ in their Grigori Kotoshikhin 147 acts and dresses from the nobility, each according to his means. It sometimes happens that a father or mother has two or three daughters, where the eldest daughter is maimed, being blind, or lame, or deaf, or mute, while the other sisters are perfect in shape and beauty and speech. When a man be- gins to sue for their daughter, and he sends his mother, or sister, or someone else in whom he has confidence to inspect her, the parents sometimes substitute the second or third daughter for their maimed sister, giving her the name of the latter, so that the inspectress, not knowing the deceit, takes a liking to the girl and reports to the groom that she is a proper person to marry. Then the groom, depending upon her words, has a parley with the girl's parents, that he is to marry her upon an appointed day, and that the parents are to give her to him upon the appointed day, and the fine is set so high that the guilty party is not able to pay it. When the wedding takes place, the parents turn over to him the maimed daughter, whose name is given in the arti- cles of marriage, but who is not the one the inspectresses had seen. But the groom cannot discover on the wedding day that she is blind, or disfigured, or has some other de- fect, or that she is deaf or mute, for at the wedding she is veiled and does not say a word, nor can he know whether she is lame, because her bride' smaids lead her under her arms. But in that case the man who has been deceived complains to the Patriarch and authorities, and these take the articles of marriage and institute an inquiry among the neighbours and housefolk, each one individually, whether the person he had married is the one indicated by name in the marriage ar- ticles. If so, the articles are valid, and no faith is to be put in his contention, on the ground that it was his business to be sure whom he was going to marry. But if the neigh- bours and housefolk depose that the bride is not the same as mentioned by name in the articles, the married pair is di- vorced, and the parents have to pay a large fine and dam- ages to the groom, and besides the father is beaten with the 148 The Oldest Period knout, or his punishment is even more severe, according to the Tsar's will. The same punishment is meted out to the man who pre- sents his serving maid or a widow in place of his unmarried daughter, by giving her another name and dressing her up so as to look like his daughter, or when his daughter is of short stature and they place her on a high chair in such a way that her defect is not noticeable. When parents have maimed or old daughters, and no one wants to marry them, they are sent to a monastery to be shorn nuns. When a man wants to inspect the bride himself, and the parents grant the request, knowing that she is fair and that they need not be ashamed of her, but the groom, having taken no liking to her, decries her with damaging and in- jurious words, and thus keeps other suitors away from her, and the bride's parents complain to the Patriarch or au- thorities: these institute an inquiry, and having found the man guilty, marry him to the girl by force; but if he has married another girl before the complaint has been entered, the girl's disgrace is taken from her by an ukase. When a man marries off his daughter or sister, and gives her a large dowry in serfs and patrimony, and that daughter or sister, having borne no children, or having borne some who have all died, dies herself, the dowry is all taken from her husband and is turned over to those who had married her off. But if she leaves a son or daughter, the dowry is, for the sake of her child, not taken from her husband. Gentle reader! Wonder not, it is nothing but the truth when I say that nowhere in the whole world is there such deception practised with marriageable girls as in the kingdom of Muscovy; there does not exist there the custom, as in other countries, for the suitor to see and sue for the bride himself. The boyars and Near People have in their houses 100, or 200, or 300, or 500, or icoo servants, male and female, ac- cording to their dignity and possessions. These servants receive a yearly salary, if they are married, 2, 3, 5 or 10 Sime6n P61otski 149 roubles, according to their services, and their wearing ap- parel, and a monthly allowance of bread and victuals; they live in their own rooms in the court of the boydr's house. The best of these married servants are sent out by the boydrs every year, by rotation, to their estates and villages, with the order to collect from their peasants the taxes and rents. The unmarried older servants receive some small wages, but the younger ones receive nothing ; all the unmarried servants get their wearing apparel, hats, shirts and boots; the older of these servants live in the farther lower apartments, and receive their food and drink from the kitchen ; on holidays they receive two cups of brandy each. The female servants who are widows remain living in the houses of their hus- bands, and they receive a yearly wage and a monthly allow- ance of food; other widows and girls stay in the rooms of the boydrs' wives and daughters, and they receive their wearing apparel, and their food from the boydr's kitchen. When these girls are grown up, the boydrs marry them, and also the widows, to some one of their servants to whom they have taken a liking, but sometimes by force. The wedding takes place in the boydr's hall, according to the rank of the marrying parties; the food and festive dresses are furnished by the boy dr. The girls are never married to any person outside the boydr's court, because both male and female servants are his perpetual serfs. In the boydr's house there is an office for all domestic affairs, where an account is kept of income and expenses, and all the affairs of the serv- ants and peasants are investigated and settled. Simeon P61otski. (1629-1680.) Simedn, whose father's name was Emelydn Petr6vski-Sitnidnovich, studied at Kiev, where the Western scholasticism had found entrance through the Polish, and where the Orthodox Church stood in less violent opposition to the Catholic and Protestant Churches and the sacred and profane learning which they disseminated. Sime6n took the tonsure as a monk in P61otsk, and developed there his early pedagogical activity, hence his name P61otski. When P61otsk was occupied by the Poles, Sime6n went to Moscow, where he attracted the attention of Alexis Mikhdylovich by his verses upon the birth of the Tsare'vich Fe6dor. He became the first Court poet, was The Oldest Period employed as instructor of Alexis, Fe6dor, and, later, Peter himself, and had great influence on the education of their sister Sophia. He was also appointed a teacher of Latin in the School of the Redeemer, where his first pupils were scribes of the Secret Department, and where later a new generation of men, among them Lomon6sov, re- ceived their earliest instruction in Western culture. Sime6n devel- oped an untiring activity in literature, standing alone in his efforts to engraft an antiquated scholasticism on the Russian orthodoxy. He was a very learned man, but, like his spiritual peer Tredyak6vski of the next century, devoid of poetic genius. His poetry, collected in two large works, The Flowery Pleasaunce and the Rhythmologion, is merely a paraphrase of foreign models in forced rhymes and a sylla- bic versification which is entirely unsuited to the Russian language. He wrote two plays, in the manner of the old Mysteries, which were among the first to be given at the newly established Court theatre. He translated much from the Latin, and composed more than two hundred sermons. In spite of the mediocrity of his literary efforts, his influence on the next generation was great ; Lomon6sov received his first impulse for writing verses from a perusal of P61otski's works. ON THE BIRTH OF PETER THE GREAT A great gladness the month of May has brought us, for the TsareVich Peter was born in it. But yesterday the famous Constantinople was captured by the Turks; to-day the most glorious salvation has appeared. The conqueror has come, and he will avenge the insult, and will free the ruling city. O Constantine's city, mightily rejoice! And you, holy church of Sophia, rejoice! An orthodox Tsare"- vich was born to us to-day, a Grand Prince of Moscow, Peter Aleksy6evich : he will endeavour to adorn you in honour, and to subdue the Moslem abomination. And you, ruling city of Moscow, rejoice! For a great joy has taken up its abode within you. He strengthened your stone-walls that surround you, porphyrogenite, God-sent son of the Tsar! Peter is his name, a firm rock, 1 and being born to strengthen the gates he will be brave and terrible to the enemy that opposes him. By a wondrous name a rock of faith, an adornment and joy to the Tsar is born, and an eternal glory to his parents. The younger Joseph was beloved by his father, and thus 1 That is, deriving Peter from Greek jrrfrpa, rock. Sime6n P61otski 151 is the younger TsareVich beloved by his father. The youngest Benjamin was loved by his brothers; even thus the youngest Peter is beloved by his two brothers. Peter is a rock of fortune and a precious stone, endowed by God for the confirmation of the Church. You, planet Ares and Zeus, re- joice, for the Tsarevich was born under your lustre ! The TsareVich was born in the quadrant aspect, and he has come to rule in his house. He announces the four-cornered token, as if to rule the four corners of the earth. From God this being was given to this planet, for this planet was found to be the best for his achievements: bravery, wealth and glory reside upon it, to place a wreath upon the head of the Tsar. Rejoice to-day, orthodox Tsar! A glorious son has been born to you ! May your years and the years of the Tsaritsa be many, and may you and your children prosper, and the new-born Tsarevich, Peter Aleksy6evich, even now glorious ! May you vanquish all foreign mights, and unite all lands and kingdoms under your rule! May God grant you to see the third and fourth generation, and your throne for ever unshaken ! AN EVIL THOUGHT A man found a snake stiff with cold and cast upon the path into the snow; he took pity on it, and placed it in his bosom. When it was revived, it began to creep, then bit the senseless man that had warmed it. Even thus it happens to him who harbours evil thoughts: they soon come to life, and give mortal stings to the thinker. THE MAGNET Iron with a magnet rubbed assumes the power of a mag- net: it then attracts needles, one after another, as long as its power lasts, which God has placed in the ore. Even so the righteous do in this world: the wisdom which is given them they give to others, that having been made wise they may turn from the world, and may turn their hearts to the living God, and may lead each other into the heavenly re- gion prepared by God for those who serve Him faithfully. 152 The Oldest Period The Story of Misery Luckless-Plight, How That Misery Luckless-Plight Caused a Youth to Turn Monk. (XVII. or XVIII. century.) This beautiful story was found in a manuscript collection of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. It consists of two parts : the first is an apocryphal account of the fall of man, with the customary substitution of the grapevine for the apple-tree, in order to inculcate abstinence from the bowl ; the second part, relating the pursuit of the young man by the demon Misery Luckless-Plight, bears every evidence of popular origin. The dramatic element of the story, the symbolic account of the pursuit in the shape of animals, the parallel- ism of phrases, are all devices which recur in the popular tales, from the Word of Igor's Armament to the present time. By the will of the Ix>rd our God and Saviour, Jesus Christ, who encompasses all, from the beginning of the human race. In the beginning of this perishable world, God created heaven and earth, God created Adam and Eve. He ordered them to live in holy paradise, and gave them this divine command : He told them not to eat the fruit of the grapevine, from the great tree of Eden. But the human heart is un- thinking and irresistible, and Adam and Eve were tempted. They forgot God's command, ate of the fruit of the grape- vine, from the great and wonderful tree, and for that great transgression of theirs God was wroth with Adam and Eve and drove them out of the holy Edenic paradise. He settled them upon the low earth, blessed them to grow and multiply, and told them to appease their hunger through their own labour from the fruits upon earth. . . . God gave them this commandment: there should be marriages, for the propagation of the race of men and for beloved children. But the human race was evil: from the very start it was not submissive, looked with disdain at the father's instruc- tion, did not obey the mother, was untrue to the advice of friends. Then there came a weak and wretched race that turned to reckless deeds, and began to live in turmoil and wrong, and discarded humility of spirit. And God grew wroth with them, and sent great calamities down upon them, and great misery, and immeasurable shame, evil plight, Misery Luckless-Plight 153 fiendish visitations, a wretched nakedness, and endless pov- erty and extreme want, in order to humble us, to punish us, to lead us on the path of salvation. Such is the race of man from its father and mother. The youth had reached the age of discretion and absence of wantonness. His father and mother loved him much, and they began to teach and instruct him, to prepare him for good deeds: "Dear child of ours, listen to your parents' words of in- struction, listen to their saws, the good and cunning and wise, and you will not be in want, you will not be in great poverty. Go not, child, to feasts and celebrations; do not seat yourself on a high place; drink not two beakers at once; be not tempted by good, fair maidens, fathers' daugh- ters, lyie not down in the wilderness. Fear not the wise man, fear the fool, lest the fools lay hands on you and take off your costly garments, and cause you great shame and aggravation, and expose you to the scorn and empty prattle of men. Go not, my child, to the dice-players and innkeepers, and keep no company with the frequenters of the tavern. Make no friends with the foolish and simple. Steal not, rob not, nor deceive, nor tell a lie, nor do wrong. Be not tempted by gold and silver; collect not unrighteous wealth. Be not a witness to false swearing, and think no evil of father and mother, or any other man, that God may pro- tect you from all evil. Dishonour not, child, the rich and the poor, but regard them all alike. Keep company with the wise and sensible, and make friends with friends you may rely upon, who will not deliver you to evil." The youth was then young and foolish, not in his full senses and imperfect in mind : he was ashamed to submit to his father and bow before his mother, but wanted to live as he listed. If the youth earned fifty roubles, he found easily fifty friends, and his honour flowed like a river: the youth gained many friends for himself, and they accounted them- selves of his race. 154 The Oldest Period And the youth had a trusted friend : he named himself his plighted brother, and he tempted him with tempting words; he called him to the tavern yard, led him into the hall of the inn, brought him a cup of green wine, handed him a beaker of heady beer, and spoke to him the following words: "Drink, plighted brother of mine, to your joy, and happi- ness, and health. Empty the cup of green wine, and follow it by a glass of sweet mead. And if you drink, brother, until you be drunk, lie down to sleep where you have drunk, depend upon me, your plighted brother. I shall sit down and keep watch over you: at your head, dear friend, I shall place a beaker of sweet Isheni wine, by your side I shall place green wine, and near you I shall place heady beer. I shall watch well over you, dear friend, and shall take you back to your father and mother." At that time the youth depended on his plighted brother; he did not wish to disobey him. He settled himself near the heady drinks, and emptied a cup of green wine, followed it by a glass of sweet mead, and he drank also the heady beer. He drank until he lost his senses, and where he had drunk, there he fell asleep: he depended upon his plighted brother. The day was inclining towards night, and the sun was in the west, when the youth awoke from his sleep. The youth looked all around him: all the costly garments had been taken away from him, his shoes and stockings were all gone, his shirt even was taken from him, and all his property was stolen. A brick was lying under his unruly head; he was covered with a tavern sackcloth, and at his feet lay ragged sandals; at his head his dear friend was no more. And the youth stood up on his bare feet, and began to clothe himself: he put on the ragged sandals, covered himself with the tavern sackcloth, covered his white body, and washed his white face. Sorrow entered the youth's heart, and he spoke the following words: *' Though God has granted me a good life, I have now no- thing to eat or drink! Since my money is gone, even the last half -farthing, I have not a friend, not even half a friend. Misery Luckless-Plight 155 They no longer account themselves of my race, all my friends have disappeared ! ' ' The youth felt ashamed to show himself before father and mother, and his race and family, and to his former friends. He went into a strange, distant, unknown land. He found a court, a town in size, and a house in that court, a palace in height. In that house was given a splendid feast: the guests drank, ate and made merry. The youth came to the splendid feast, made the sign of the cross over his white face, bowed before the wonderful images, made his obeisance to the good people on all four sides. And when the good people saw the youth, how well he made the sign of the cross, how he acted according to the written rule, they took him by the hands, seated him at the oaken table, not in a great place, nor in a small, they seated him in a middle place, where the younger guests are seated. And the feast was a merry one, and all the guests at the feast were drunk and merry and boastful; but the youth sat, not merry at all, gloomy, sorrowful, joyless, and neither ate, nor drank, nor made merry, nor boasted of anything at the feast. Said the good people to the youth : " Wherefore, O good youth, do you sit, not merry at the feast, gloomy, sorrowful, joyless ; you neither drink, nor make merry, nor boast of anything at the feast ? Or has the cup of green wine not reached you, or is not your seat ac- cording to your father's worth ? Or have small children in- sulted you ? Or foolish and unwise people made light of you, youth ? Or are our children not kind to you ? ' ' But the good youth remained sitting and said: "Gentlemen and good people! I will tell you of my great misfortune, of my disobedience to my parents, of my drinking at the inn the cup of mead, the tempting drinking of heady wine. When I took to drinking the heady wine, I dis- obeyed both father and mother: their blessing departed from me; the Ix>rd grew wroth with me, and to my poverty were added many great and incurable sorrows and sadness with- out comfort, want, and misery, and extreme wretchedness. Want has tamed my flowery speech ; sadness has dried up 156 The Oldest Period my white body. For this my heart is not merry, and my white face is sad, and my eyes dim. I have lost my paternal honour, and my youthful valour has left me. Gentlemen and good people! Tell me and teach me how to live in a strange land, among strange people, and how to find dear friends! " Said the good people to the youth : " You are a sensible youth ! Be not haughty in a strange land: submit to friend and foe, bow to old and young, tell not of the affairs of others, neither what you hear, nor see. Flatter not friends nor enemies ; have no tortuous fits, nor bend as a cunning snake; be humble before all, but withal keep to truth and right, and you will have great honour and glory. When people will find you out, they will respect and honour you for your great truth, your humility and wisdom; and you will have dear friends, who will call themselves your plighted brothers. ' ' And the youth went hence into a strange land, and began to live wisely, and through his great wisdom acquired greater wealth than before. He looked out for a bride according to- custom, for he wished to marry. The youth prepared a splendid feast, according to his father's worth and as best he knew, and invited the honoured guests and friends. But through his own sin, by God's will and the devil's tempta- tion, he boasted before his honoured guests and friends and plighted brothers. A boastful word is always rotten, and self-praise brings the destruction of man: " I, the youth, have gained more possessions than ever ! ' ' Misery Luckless-Plight heard the young man's boasting, and spoke the following words: " Young man, boast not of your fortune, praise not your wealth! I, Misery, have known people who were wiser and richer than you, but I, Misery, have outwitted them. When a great misfortune befell them, they struggled with me unto their death; they were worsted by their luckless plight, could not get away from me, Misery, until they took their abode in the grave, and I covered them for ever with the earth. Only then they were rid of nakedness, and I, Misery, left them, Misery Luckless-Plight 157 though luckless plight remained upon their grave!" And again it cawed ominously: " I, Misery, attached myself to others, for I, Misery I " Ha, brothers, my brave Hetmans! Make for yourselves boats, Make the rowlocks of fir, Make the oars of pine ! By the help of God we will go, brothers; Let us pass the steep mountains, Let us reach the infidel kingdom, Let us conquer the Siberian kingdom, That will please our Tsar, our master. I will myself go to the White Tsar, I shall put on a sable cloak, I shall make my submission to the White Tsar." " Oh! thou art our hope, orthodox Tsar; Do not order me to be executed, but bid me say my say, Since I am Yermdk, the son of Timof 6y! i?4 The Folklore I am the robber Hetman of the Don; 'T was I went over the blue sea, Over the blue sea, the Caspian ; And I it was who destroyed the ships; And now, our hope, our orthodox Tsar, I bring you ray traitorous head, And with it I bring the empire of Siberia." And the orthodox Tsar spoke; He spoke the terrible Iv&ii Vasflevich : " Ha! thou art Yerradk, the son of Timof6y, Thou art the Hetman of the warriors of the Don. I pardon you and your band, I pardon you for your trusty service, And I give you the glorious gentle Don as an inheritance.'* From W. R. Morfill's Slavonic Literature. THE BOYA*R'S EXECUTION " Thou, my head, alas! my head, Long hast served me, and well, my head ; Full three-and-thirty summers long; Ever astride of my gallant steed, Never my foot from its stirrup drawn. But alas! thou hast gained, my head, Nothing of joy or other good; Nothing of honours or even thanks." Yonder along the Butcher's street, Out to the field through the Butcher's gate. They are leading a prince and peer. Priests and deacons are walking before, In their hands a great book open; Then there follows a soldier troop, With their drawn sabres flashing bright. At his right the headsman goes, Holds in his hand the keen-edged sword; At his left goes his sister dear, And she weeps as the torrent pours, And she sobs as the fountains gush. Historical Songs 175 Comforting speaks her brother to her: ' ' Weep not, weep not, my sister dear ! Weep not away thy eyes so clear, Dim not, O dim not thy face so fair, Make not heavy thy joyous heart! Say, for what is it thou weepest so ? Is 't for my goods, my inheritance ? Is 't for my lands, so rich and wide ? Is 't for my silver, or is 't for my gold, Or dost thou weep for my life alone ? " " Ah, thou, my light, my brother dear! Not for thy goods or inheritance, Not for thy lands, so rich and wide, Is 't that my eyes are weeping so; Not for thy silver and not for thy gold, 'T is for thy life I am weeping so." "Ah, thou, my light, my sister sweet! Thou mayest weep, but it won't avail; Thou mayest beg, but 't is all in vain; Pray to the Tsar, but he will not yield. Merciful truly was God to me, Truly gracious to me the Tsar, So he commanded my traitor head Off should be hewn from my shoulders strong." Now the scaffold the prince ascends, Calmly mounts to the place of death ; Prays to his Great Redeemer there, Humbly salutes the crowd around : ' ' Farewell, world, and thou people of God ! Pray for my sins that burden me sore I" Scarce had the people ventured then On him to look, when his traitor head Off was hewn from his shoulders strong. From Talvi's Historical View. 1 76 The Folklore THE STORMING OF AZOV The poor soldiers have no rest, Neither night nor day ! Late at evening the word was given To the soldiers gay ; All night long their weapons cleaning, Were the soldiers good ; Ready in the morning dawn, All in ranks they stood. Not a golden trumpet is it, That now sounds so clear; Nor the silver flute's tone is it, That thou now dost hear. 'T is the great White Tsar who speaketh, 'T is our father dear. " Come, my princes, my boydrs, Nobles, great and small ! Now consider and invent Good advice, ye all, How the soonest, how the quickest, Fort Azov may fall! " The boydrs, they stood in silence, And our father dear, He again began to speak, In his eye a tear: "Come, my children, good dragoons, And my soldiers all, Now consider and invent Brave advice, ye all, How the soonest, how the quickest, Fort Azov may fall!" Like a humming swarm of bees, So the soldiers spake, With one voice at once they spake: " Father dear, great Tsar! Folksongs 177 Fall it must! and all our lives Thereon we gladly stake." Set already was the moon, Nearly past the night; To the storming on they marched, With the morning light; To the fort with bulwarked towers And walls so strong and white. Not great rocks they were, which rolled From the mountains steep ; From the high, high walls there rolled Foes into the deep. No white snow shines on the fields, All so white and bright; But the corpses of our foes Shine so bright and white. Not upswollen by heavy rains Left the sea its bed; No ! In rills and rivers streams Turkish blood so red ! From Talvi's Historical View, Folksongs. Pagan Russia was rich in ceremonies in honour of the various divin- ities representing the powers of nature. Christianity has not entirely obliterated the memory of these ancient rites : they are preserved in the ceremonial songs that are recited, now of course without a know- ledge of their meaning, upon all church holidays, to which the old festivities have been adapted. Thus, the feast of the winter solstice now coincides with Christmas, while the old holiday of the summer solstice has been transferred to St. John's Day, on June 24th. The koly&das are sung at Christmas, and seem to have been origin- ally in honour of the sun. The name appears to be related to the Latin " calenda," but it is generally supposed that this is only accid- ental, and that Koly&da was one of the appellations of the sun. Young boys and girls march through the village or town and exact contributions of eatables by reciting the kolyadas. In other places they sing, instead, songs to a mythical being, Ovse"n, on the eve of the New Year. This Ovsdn is some other representation of the sun. During the Christmas festivity fortunes are told over a bowl of VOL. I. 12. i ;8 The Folklore water which is placed on the table, while in it are put rings, earrings, salt, bread, pieces of coal. During the fortune-telling they sing the bowl-songs, after each of which a ring, or the like, is removed. After the fortune-telling follow the games and the songs connected with these. Spring songs are recited in the week after Easter. Soon after, and lasting until the end of June, the round dance, the khorovbd, is danced upon some eminence, and the khorov6d songs, referring to love and marriage, are sung. There are still other reminiscences of heathen festivals, of which the most important is that to Kupdla, on the night from the 23rd to the 24th of June, when the peasants jump over fires and bathe in the river. The wedding-songs, of which there is a large number in the long ceremony of the wedding (cf. Kotoshikhin's account of the seven- teenth century wedding, p. 143 et seq.), contain reminiscences of the ancient custom of the stealing of the bride, and, later, of the purchase of the bride. Most of the love songs that are not part of the khorov6d are detached songs of the wedding ceremonial. The beggar-songs are more properly apocryphal songs of book origin, handed down from great antiquity, but not preceding the in- troduction of Christianity. There are also lamentations, charms, and other similar incantations, in which both pagan and Christian ideas are mingled. An account of the folksong will be found in Talvi's Historical View of the Languages and Literatures of the Slavic Nations, New York, 1850 ; W. R. S. Ralston's The Songs of the Russian People, London, 1872 ; Russian Folk-Songs as Sung by the People, and Peasant Wed- ding Ceremonies, translated by E. Lineff, with preface by H. E. Krehbiel, Chicago, 1893. Also in the following periodical articles : The Popular Songs of Russia, in Hogg's Instructor, 1855, and the same article, in Eclectic Magazine, vol. xxxvi; Russian Songs and Folktales, in Quarterly Review, 1874 (vol. cxxxvi). A number of popular songs have been translated by Sir John Bowring in his Speci- mens of the Russian Poets, both parts. KOLYADKA Beyond the river, the swift river, Oy Kolyddka! There stand dense forests: In those forests fires are burning, Great fires are burning. Around the fires stand benches, Stand oaken benches, Folksongs 1 79 On these benches the good youths, The good youths, the fair maidens, Sing Kolydda songs, Kolyada, Kolyada! In their midst sits an old man ; He sharpens his steel knife. A cauldron boils hotly. Near the cauldron stands a goat. They are going to kill the goat. " Brother Ivdnushko, Come forth, spring out! " " Gladly would I have sprung out, But the bright stone Drags me down to the cauldron : The yellow sands Have sucked dry my heart." OyKolyddka! Oy Kolyadka! -From W. R. S. Ralston' s The Songs of the Russian People. BOWL-SONG A grain adown the velvet strolled Glory ! No purer pearl could be Glory ! The pearl against a ruby rolled Glory! Most beautiful to see Glory ! Big is the pearl by ruby's side Glory! Well for the bridegroom with his bride Glory ! From John Pollen's Rhymes from the Russian. A PARTING SCENE " Sit not up, my love, late at evening hour, Burn the light no more, light of virgin wax, Wake no more for me till the midnight hour; Ah, gone by, gone by is the happy time! Ah, the wind has blown all our joys away, And has scattered them o'er the empty field. For my father dear, he will have it so, And my mother dear has commanded it, i8o The Folklore That I now must wed with another wife, With another wife, with an unloved one! But on heaven high two suns never burn, Two moons never shine in the stilly night, And an honest lad never loveth twice! But my father shall be obeyed by me, And my mother dear I will now obey; To another wife I '11 be wedded soon, To another wife, to an early death, To an early death, to a forced one. ' ' Wept the lovely maid many bitter tears, Many bitter tears, and did speak these words: " O beloved one, never seen enough, Longer will I not live in this white world, Never without thee, thou my star of hope! Never has the dove more than one fond mate, And the female swan ne'er two husbands has, Neither can I have two beloved friends." No more sits she now late at evening hour, But the light still burns, light of virgin wax; On the table stands the coffin newly made ; In the coffin new lies the lovety maid. From Talvi's Historical View. THE DOVE On an oak-tree sat, Sat a pair of doves; And they billed and cooed And they, heart to heart, Tenderly embraced With their little wings; On them, suddenly, Darted down a hawk. One he seized and tore, Tore the little dove, Folksongs 181 With his feathered feet, Soft blue little dove; And he poured his blood Streaming down the tree. Feathers, too, were strewed Widely o'er the field; High away the down Floated in the air. Ah! how wept and wept, Ah ! how sobbed and sobbed The poor doveling then For her little dove. " Weep not, weep not so, Tender little bird!" Spake the light young hawk To the little- dove. "O'er the sea away, O'er the far blue sea, I will drive to thee Flocks of other doves. From them choose thee then, Choose a soft and blue, With his feathered feet, Better little dove." " Fly, thou villain, not O'er the far blue sea! Drive not here to me Flocks of other doves. Ah ! of all thy doves None can comfort me; Only he, the father Of my little ones. ' ' From Talvi's Historical View. 1 82 The Folklore THE FAITHLESS LOVER Nightingale, O nightingale, Nightingale so full of song ! Tell me, tell me, where thou flicst, Where to sing now in the night ? Will another maiden hear thee, Like to me, poor me, all night Sleepless, restless, comfortless, Ever full of tears her eyes ? Fly, O fly, dear nightingale, Over hundred countries fly, Over the blue sea so far ! Spy the distant countries through, Town and village, hill and dell, Whether thou find'st anyone, Who so sad is as I am ? Oh, I bore a necklace once, All of pearls like morning dew; And I bore a finger-ring, With a precious stone thereon; And I bore deep in my heart Love, a love so warm and true. When the sad, sad autumn came, Were the pearls no longer clear; And in winter burst my ring, On my finger, of itself! Ah! and when the spring came on, Had forgotten me my love. From Talvi's Historical View. ELEGY O thou field ! thou clean and level field ! O thou plain, so far and wide around! Level field, dressed up with everything, Everything; with sky-blue flowerets small, Fresh green grass, and bushes thick with leaves; But defaced by one thing, but by one! Folksongs 183 For in thy very middle stands a broom, On the broom a young grey eagle sits, And he butchers wild a raven black, Sucks the raven's heart-blood glowing hot, Drenches with it, too, the moistened earth. Ah, black raven, youth so good and brave! Thy destroyer is the eagle grey. Not a swallow 't is, that hovering clings, Hovering clings to her warm little nest; To the murdered son the mother clings. And her tears fall like the rushing stream, And his sister's like the flowing rill; Like the dew her tears fall of his love : When the sun shines, it dries up the dew. From Talvi's Historical View. THE FAREWEU, Brightly shining sank the waning moon, And the sun all beautiful arose; Not a falcon floated through the air, Strayed a youth along the river's brim. Slowly strayed he on and dreamingly, Sighing looked unto the garden green, Heart all filled with sorrow mused he so: "All the little birds are now awake, All, embracing with their little wings, Greeting, all have sung their morning songs. But, alas! that sweetest doveling mine, She who was my youth's first dawning love, In her chamber slumbers fast and deep. Ah, not even her friend is in her dreams, Ah ! no thought of me bedims her soul, While my heart is torn with wildest grief, That she comes to meet me here no more." Stepped the maiden from her chamber then; Wet, oh, wet with tears her lovely face ! 1 84 The Folklore All with sadness dimmed her eyes so clear, Feebly drooping hung her snowy arms. 'T was no arrow that had pierced her heart, 'T was no adder that had stung her so; Weeping, thus the lovely maid began : " Fare thee well, beloved, fare thee well, Dearest soul, thy father's dearest son! I have been betrothed since yesterday; Come, to-morrow, troops of wedding guests; To the altar I, perforce, must go! I shall be another's then; and yet Thine, thine only, thine alone till death. ' ' From Talvi's Historical View. Sing, O sing again, lovely lark of mine, Sitting there alone amidst the green of May ! In the prison-tower the lad sits mournfully; To his father writes, to his mother writes: Thus he wrote, and these, these were the very words: " O good father mine, thou beloved sir! O good mother mine, thou beloved dame ! Ransom me, I pray, ransom the good lad, He is your beloved, is your only son ! " Father, mother, both, both refused to hear, Cursed their hapless race, cursed their hapless seed: " Never did a thief our honest name disgrace, Highwayman or thief never stained the name! " Sing, O sing again, lovely lark of mine, Sitting there alone in the green of May ! From the prison-tower thus the prisoner wrote, Thus the prisoner wrote to his beloved maid: " O thou soul of mine! O thou lovely maid! Truest love of mine, sweetest love of mine ! Save, O save, I pray, save the prisoned lad! " Swiftly then exclaimed that beloved maid : " Come, attendant! Come! Come, my faithful nurse! Folksongs 185 Servant faithful, you that long have faithful been, Bring the golden key, bring the key with speed ! Ope the treasure chests, open them in haste; Golden treasures bring, bring them straight to me: Ransom him, I say, ransom the good lad, He is my beloved, of my heart beloved." Sing, O sing again, lovely lark of mine, Sitting there alone amidst the green of May ! From Sir John Bowring's Specimens of the Russian Poets, Part II. WEDDING GEAR The blacksmith from the forge comes he Glory ! And carries with him hammers three Glory ! O blacksmith, blacksmith, forge for me Glory! A wedding crown of gold, bran-new! Glory! A golden ring, oh, make me, do ! Glory ! With what is left a gold pin too! Glory! The crown on wedding day I '11 wear Glory ! On golden ring my troth I '11 swear Glory! The pin will bind my veil to hair Glory ! From John Pollen's Rhymes from the Russian. THE SALE OF THE BRAID It was not a horn that in the early morning sounded; It was a maiden her ruddy braid lamenting: " Last night they twined my braid together, And interweaved my braid with pearls. Lukd Ivdnovich Heaven requite him ! Has sent a pitiless svakha hither. My braid has she begun to rend. Tearing out the gold from my braid, Shaking my pearls from my ruddy braids." -From W. R. S. Ralston's The Songs of the Russian People. 1 86 The Folklore MARRIAGE SONG Her mother has counselled Mdryushka, Has given counsel to her dear Efimovna. ' ' Go not, my child, Go not, my darling, Into thy father's garden for apples, Nor catch the mottled butterflies, Nor frighten the little birds, Nor interrupt the clear-voiced nightingale. For shouldst thou pluck the apples The tree will wither away; Or seize the mottled butterfly, The butterfly will die. And shouldst thou frighten a little bird, That bird will fly away; Or interrupt the clear-voiced nightingale, The nightingale will be mute: But catch, my child, My dear one, catch The falcon bright in the open field, The green, the open field." Mdryushka has caught, Caught has the dear Efimovna, The falcon bright in the open field, The green, the open field. She has perched him on her hand, She has brought him to her mother. " Mother mine, Gosudirynya, I have caught the falcon bright." From W. R. S. Ralston' s The Songs of the Russian People. BEGGARS' SONG "Whither art Thou fleeing?" they spoke in tears to Christ. "For whom art Thou leaving us? Who will without Thee give us to drink and eat, will clothe us and protect us against dark night ? " Folksongs 187 "Weep not, poor people," replied Christ: "Weep not, mendicants and homeless and small orphans ! I will leave you a golden mountain, will give you a honeyed river, will give you vineyards, will give you heavenly manna. Only know how to manage that golden mountain, and to divide it among yourselves: and you will be fed and given drink; you will be clothed and covered up in dark nights." Then John the Theologue retorted: " Hail to Thee, real Christ, King of heaven ! Permit me to tell Thee a few words, and take not ill my words ! Give them not a golden mount- ain, nor a honeyed river and vineyards, give them not heavenly manna ! They will not know how to manage that mountain; it will be beyond their strength, and they will not be able to divide up : they will not harvest the grapes, will not taste the manna. Princes and noblemen, pastors, officials and merchants will hear of that mountain, and they will take away from them the golden mountain and honeyed river, the vineyards and heavenly manna: they will divide up the golden mountain among themselves according to their ranks, but the poor people will not be admitted, and there will be much murder, and much spilling of blood. The poor will have nothing to live on, nothing to wear, and nothing to protect themselves with against dark night: the poor will die of starvation, will freeze to death in cold winter. Give them rather Thy holy name and Word of Christ; and the poor will go all over the earth, will glorify Thee, and the orthodox will give them alms; the poor will be fed and given drink, will be clothed and protected against cold night." "Thank you, John the Theologue!" replied Christ the heavenly King. ." You have said a sensible word, and have discussed well, you have taken good care of the poor." AN ORPHAN'S WAILING O mother dear that bare me, O with sadness longed-for one ! To whom hast thou left us, on whom are we orphans to rest our hopes ? From no quarter do warm breezes breathe on us, we hear no words of kindness. Great folks turn away 1 88 The Folklore from us, our kinsfolk renounce us; rust eats into our orphaned hearts. The red sun burns in the midst of a hot summer, but us it keeps not: scarcely does it warm us, O green mother-grave ! Have a care for us, mother dear, give us a word of kindness ! No, thou hast hardened thy heart harder than stone, and hast folded thy uncaressing hand over thy heart. O white cygnet! For what journey hast thou prepared and equipped thyself; from which side may we expect thee ? Arise, O ye wild winds, from all sides! Be borne, O winds, into the Church of God! Sweep open the moist earth! Strike, O wild winds, on the great bell ! Will not its sounds and mine awaken words of kindness ? From Ralston's The Songs of the Russian People. CONJURATION OF A MOTHER SEPARATED FROM HER CHILD I, poor mother, weep in the high chamber of my house; from the dawn I look afar over the fields, even until the sun goes to rest. There I sit until night, till the damp dew falls; there I sit in grief, until, weary of this torment, I resolve*to conjure my cruel sorrow. I go into the field; I have taken the nuptial cup, the taper of betrothal and the handkerchief of marriage. I have drawn water from the mountain spring, I have gone into the dark forest, and tracing around me a magic circle, I have said aloud these words: " I conjure my dearest child by that nuptial cup, by that fresh water and by that marriage handkerchief. With that water I lave his fair face, with that handkerchief I wipe his honeyed lips, his sparkling eyes, his rosy cheeks, his thought- ful brow; with that waxen taper I light up his splendid garments, his sable bonnet, his belt of divers colours, his embroidered boots, his chestnut locks, his noble figure and manly limbs, that thou mayest be, my child, more brilliant than the brightest sunbeams, sweeter to look upon than a sweet spring day, fresher than water from the fount- ain, whiter than the wax, stronger than the magic stone. Far be from thee the demon of sorrow, the impetuous hurri- Fairy Tales 189 cane, the one-eyed spirit of the woods, the domestic demon of strange houses, the spirit of the waters, the sorcery of Kiev, the woman of the twinkling billows, the cursed Baba- yaga, the winged and fiery serpent, the crow of evil omen. I put myself between thee and the ogre, the false magician, the sorcerer, the evil magic, the seeing blind and the old of double sight. By my words of power, may thou be, my child, by night and by day, from hour to moment, in the market-place, and asleep or in watching, safe against the power of the evil spirits, against death, grief and calamity; upon the water, against shipwreck; in fire, against burning. "When thy last hour shall come, recall, my child, our tender love, our bread and salt. Turn thyself towards thy glorious country, salute it seven times seven times with thy face to the earth, bid farewell to thy family, throw thy- self upon the damp ground and lull thyself to a calm sleep. " May my word be stronger than water, higher than the mountain, weightier than gold, harder than rock, stronger than an armed horseman, and if any dare to bewitch my child, may he be swallowed by Mount Ararat, in bottomless precipices, in burning tar and crackling fire; that sorceries and magic may for ever be powerless against thee." From The Popular Songs of Russia, in Hogg's Instructor, 1855. Fairy Tales. For an account of the fairy tales see the chapter on Folklore. The following works, of which Ralston's is still the best, give a large number of such stories : Russian Popular Tales, from the German version of Anton Dietrich, London, 1857 ; W. R. S. Ralston, Russian Folk-Tales, London, 1873 I J- T. Naake, Slavonic Fairy Tales, Lon- don, 1874 ; E. M. S. Hodgetts, Tales and Legends from the Land of the Tzar, London, 1890; Jeremiah Curtin, Myths and Folk Tales of the Russians, Western Slavs and Magyars, Boston, 1890 ; A. Gerber, Great Russian Animal Tales (vol. vi, No. 2 of the Publications of the Modern Language Association), Baltimore, 1891 ; R. Nisbet Bain, Russian Fairy Tales from the Skazki of Polevoi, Chicago, 1895. There are also some articles in periodicals : Household Tales of the Sclavonians and Hungarians, and The Household Fictions of Es- thonia and Russia, in Dublin University Magazine, 1867 (vol. Ixx); Russian Popular Legends (by Ralston), in Fortnightly Review, 1869 ; Russian Songs and Folktales, in Quarterly Review, 1874 (vol. cxxxvi). The Folklore FROST There was once an old man who had a wife and three daughters. The wife had no love for the eldest of the three, who was a step-daughter, but was always scolding her. Moreover, she used to make her get up ever so early in the morning, and gave her all the work of the house to do. Be- fore daybreak the girl would feed the cattle and give them to drink, fetch wood and water indoors, light the fire in the stove, give the room a wash, mend the dress and set every- thing in order. Even then her step-mother was never satis- fied, but grumbled away at Marfa, exclaiming: " What a lazybones! What a slut! Why, here is a brush not in its place, and there is something put wrong, and she has left the muck inside the house! " The girl held her peace, and wept; she tried in every way to accommodate herself to her step-mother, and to be of serv- ice to her step-sisters. But they, taking pattern by their mother, were always insulting Marfa, quarrelling with her, and making her cry: that was even a pleasure to them! As for them, they lay in bed late, washed themselves in water got ready for them, dried themselves with a clean towel and did not sit down to work till after dinner. Well, our girls grew and grew, until they grew up and were old enough to be married. The old man felt sorry for his eldest daughter, whom he loved because she was indus- trious and obedient, never was obstinate, always did as she was bid and never uttered a word of contradiction. But he did not know how to help her in her trouble. He was feeble, his wife was a scold and his daughters were as obstinate as they were indolent. Well, the old folks set to work to consider the husband how he could get his daughter settled, the wife how she could get rid of the eldest one. One day she says to him: " I say, old man! Let 's get Marfa married." " Gladly," says he, slinking off (to the sleeping-place) above the stove. But his wife called after him : " Get up early to-morrow, old man, harness the mare to Fairy Tales 191 the sledge and drive away with Mdrfa. And, Mdrfa, get your things together in a basket, and put on a clean shift; you are going away to-morrow on a visit." Poor Mdrfa was delighted to hear of such a piece of good luck as being invited on a visit, and she slept comfortably all night. Early next morning she got up, washed herself, prayed to God, got all her things together, packed them away in proper order, dressed herself (in her best things) and looked something like a lass! a bride fit for any place whatsoever ! Now it was winter-time, and out of doors there was a rattling frost. Early in the morning, between daybreak and sunrise, the old man harnessed the mare to the sledge, and led it up to the steps, then he went indoors, sat down in the window-sill, and said: " Now then! I have got everything ready." "Sit down to table and swallow your victuals! " replied the old woman. The old man sat down to table, and made his daughter sit by his side. On the table stood a pannier; he took out a loaf, and cut bread for himself and his daughter. Meantime his wife served up a dish of old cabbage soup and said: " There, my pigeon, eat and be off; I have looked at you quite enough! Drive Mdrfa to her bridegroom, old man. And look here, old greybeard ! drive straight along the road at first, and then turn off from the road to the right, you know, into the forest right up to the big pine that stands on the hill, and there hand Mdrfa to Morozko (Frost)." The old man opened his eyes wide, also his mouth, and stopped eating, and the girl began lamenting. " Now then, what are you hanging your chaps and squeal- ing about ? ' ' said her step-mother. ' ' Surely your bride- groom is a beauty, and he is that rich! Why, just see what a lot of things belong to him: the firs, the pine-tops and the birches, all in their robes of down ways and means anyone might envy; and he himself a bogatyr! " The old man silently placed the things on the sledge, made his daughter put on her warm pelisse and set off on 192 The Folklore the journey. After a time, he reached the forest, turned off the road and drove across the frozen snow. When he got into the depths of the forest, he stopped, made his daughter get out, laid her basket under the tall pine and said: " Sit here, and await the bridegroom. And mind you receive him as pleasantly as you can! " Then he turned his horse round and drove off homewards. The girl sat and shivered. The cold pierced her through. She would fain have cried aloud, but she had not strength enough; only her teeth chattered. Suddenly she heard a sound. Not far off, Frost was cracking away on a fir. From fir to fir was he leaping and snapping his fingers. Presently he appeared on that very pine under which the maiden was sitting, and from above her head he cried: "Art thou warm, maiden ? " " Warm, warm am I, dear father Frost," she replied. Frost began to descend lower, all the more cracking and snapping his fingers. To the maiden said Frost: "Art thou warm, maiden ? Art thou warm, fair one ? " The girl could scarcely draw her breath, but still she replied : " Warm am I, Frost dear; warm am I, father dear! " Frost began cracking more than ever, and more loudly did he snap his fingers, and to the maiden he said: "Art thou warm, maiden ? Art thou warm, pretty one ? Art thou warm, my darling ? " The girl was by this time numbed with cold, and she could scarcely make herself heard as she replied: "Oh! Quite warm, Frost dearest! " Then Frost took pity on the girl, wrapped her up in furs and warmed her with blankets. Next morning the old woman said to her husband: " Drive out, old greybeard, and wake the young people! " The old man harnessed his horse and drove off. When he came to where his daughter was, he found she was alive and had got a good pelisse, a costly bridal veil and a pannier with rich gifts. He stowed everything away on the sledge without saying a word, took a seat on it with his daughter, Fairy Tales 193 and drove back. They reached home, and the daughter fell at her step-mother's feet. The old woman was thunderstruck when she saw the girl alive, and the new pelisse and the basket of linen. "Ah, you wretch! "she cries.' ' But you sha' n't trick me! " Well, a little later the old woman says to her husband: " Take my daughters, too, to their bridegroom. The presents he 's made are nothing to what he '11 give them." Well, early next morning the old woman gave her girls their breakfast, dressed them as befitted brides and sent them off on their journey. In the same way as before the old man left the girls under the pine. There the girls sat, and kept laughing and saying: " Whatever is mother thinking of? All of a sudden to marry both of us off ! As if there were no lads in our village, forsooth! Some rubbishy fellow may come, and goodness knows who he may be! " The girls were wrapped up in pelisses, but for all that they felt the cold. "I say, Prask6vya! The Frost 's skinning me alive. Well, if our bridegroom does n't come quick, we shall be frozen to death here! " " Don't go talking nonsense, Mashka; as if suitors turned up in the forenoon! Why, it 's hardly dinner-time yet! " ' ' But I say, Prask6vya ! If only one comes, which of us will he take ? ' ' " Not you, you stupid goose! " " Then it will be you, I suppose! " " Of course, it will be me! " "You, indeed! There now, have done talking stuff and treating people like fools! " Meanwhile, Frost had numbed the girls' hands, so our damsels folded them under their dresses, and then went on quarrelling as before. "What, you fright! You sleepy face ! You abominable shrew! Why, you don't know so much as how to begin weaving; and as to going on with it, you have n't an idea! " "Aha, boaster! And what is it you know ? Why, nothing VOL. I. 13. 194 The Folklore at all except to go out merrymaking and lick your lips there. We '11 soon see which he '11 take first! " While the girls went on scolding like that, they began to freeze in downright earnest. Suddenly they both cried out at once: ' ' Whyever is he so long coming ? You know, you have turned quite blue! " Now, a good way off, Frost had begun cracking, snap- ping his fingers and leaping from fir to fir. To the girls it sounded as if someone were coming. " lyisten, Prask6vya! He 's coming at last, with bells, too!" " Get along with you ! I won't listen; my skin is pealing with cold." "And yet you 're still expecting to get married! " Then they began blowing their fingers. Nearer and nearer came Frost. At length he appeared on the pine, above the heads of the girls, and said to them: "Are ye warm, maidens? Are ye warm, pretty ones? Are ye warm, my darlings ? " " Oh, Frost, it 's awfully cold! We are utterly perished! We're expecting a bridegroom, but the confounded fellow has disappeared." Frost slid lower down the tree, cracked away more, snapped his fingers oftener than before. " Are ye warm, maidens ? Are ye warm, pretty ones ? " " Get along with you! Are you blind, that you can't see our hands and feet are quite dead ? " Still lower descended Frost, still more put forth his might and said: " Are ye warm, maidens ? " " Into the bottomless pit with you! Out of my sight, ac- cursed one! " cried the girls and became lifeless forms. Next morning the old woman said to her husband: " Old man, go and get the sledge harnessed; put an arm- ful of hay in it, and take some sheepskin wraps. I dare say the girls are half dead with cold. There is a terrible frost outside! And, mind you, old greybeard, do it quickly! " Fairy Tales 195 Before the old man could manage to get a bite, he was out of doors and on his way. When he came to where his daughters were, he found them dead. So he lifted the girls on the sledge, wrapped a blanket round them and covered them up with a bark mat. The old woman saw him from afar, ran out to meet him and called out ever so loud: " Where are my girls ? " " In the sledge." The old woman lifted the mat, undid the blanket and found the girls both dead. Then, like a thunder-storm, she broke out against her husband, abusing him and saying : ' ' What have you done, you old wretch ? You have de- stroyed my daughters, the children of my own flesh, my never-to-be-gazed-on seedlings, my beautiful berries! I will thrash you with the tongs; I will give it you with the stove- rake." " That 's enough, you old goose! You flattered yourself you were going to get riches, but your daughters were too stiff-necked. How was I to blame? It was you yourself would have it." The old woman was in a rage at first, and used bad lan- guage; but afterwards she made it up with her step-daughter, and they all lived together peaceably, and thrived, and bore no malice. A neighbour made an offer of marriage, the wedding was celebrated and Marfa is now living happily. The old man frightens his grandchildren with (stories about) Frost, and does not let them have their own way. From W. R. S Ralston's Russian Folk- Tales. THE CAT, THE GOAT AND THE RAM Once upon a time there lived in a yard a Goat and a Ram, and they lived in great friendship with each other: say there was but a bunch of hay even that they divided in two equal halves. If there was anyone to be punched in his sides, it was only Tom-Cat Vaska ; he was such a thief and robber, always on the lookout for prey, and let there be 196 The Folklore anything not under lock, his stomach immediately growled for it. The Goat and the Ram were once lying quietly and having a friendly chat, when who should turn up but grey- browed, Purring Vaska, and he was whining pitifully. So the Goat and Ram asked him : " Kitty-Cat, grey-browed Cat, why are you whining so, and why do you hop about on three legs ? ' ' "How can I help crying? The old woman has beaten me; she struck me hard, almost pulled my ears out, nearly broke my legs, and came very near choking my life out of me." " What have you been guilty of, to deserve such a fate ? " "All the trouble was, I was hungry, and lapped up the cream." And the Purring Cat once more began to whine. "Kitty-Cat, grey-browed Cat! What are you whining about?" " How can I help crying? As the old woman was beat- ing me, she kept on saying: ' Where shall I get the cream when my son-in-law will come to-morrow? I '11 have to butcher the Goat and the Ram! ' " The Goat and the Ram howled loud : " O you grey Cat, senseless head! Why have you ruined us? We'll butt you to death ! ' ' Then Purring Vaska humbly confessed his guilt and begged forgiveness. They forgave him, and the three held a council of how matters stood and what was to be done. " Well, middle brother Ram," asked Purring Cat, " have you a tough head ? Just try it against the gate! " The Ram took a run and hit the gate with his head: the gate shook, but did not open. Then rose the elder brother Billy-Goat, took a run, hit the gate and it flew open. The dust rose in a cloud, the grass bent to the ground, while the Goat and Ram were running, and the grey-browed Cat was hopping after them on three legs. He grew tired, and he begged his plighted brothers: " Elder brother and middle brother! Don't abandon your younger brother a prey to the wild beasts! " Fairy Tales 197 So the Goat stopped and took him on his back, and again they raced over hills, and vales, and drifting sands. And they came to a steep hill and a standstill. Under that steep hill was a mowed meadow, and on that meadow there was a whole town of haystacks. The Goat, and Ram, and Cat stopped to take a rest; it was a cold autumn night. Where were they to get some fire ? The Goat and the Ram were still thinking about it, when the Purring Cat got some twigs with which he tied the Goat's horns, and he told the Goat and the Ram to strike each other's heads. They hit each other with such a might that sparks flew from their eyes: the twigs crackled. " That '11 do," said the grey Cat. " Now we will warm ourselves. ' ' No sooner said than he put a haystack on fire. They had not yet gotten warm, when lo ! there was an un- called guest, a Peasant-in-gabardine, Mikhaylo Ivanovich. " L 7 janissary vented his rage; like a tiger he rushed upon the Muscovite troop. Soon the boaster fell; he weltered in his own blood. Water with your tears, children of Hagar, the foot which has trampled you down ! Kiss ye that hand whose bloody sword brought fear before your eyes. Anna's stern glance is quick to grant relief to those who seek it; it shines forth, for the storm has passed away. She sees you prostrate 250 The Eighteenth Century before her; fervent in affection towards her own subjects, to her enemies she proffers punishment or pardon. Already has the golden finger of the morning star with- drawn the starry curtain of night; a horse fleet as the wind, his rider Phoebus in the full blaze of his glory, issues from the east, his nostrils breathing sparks of radiant light. Phoebus shakes his fiery head, dwells in wonder on the glorious work and exclaims: " Few such victories have I witnessed, long as I have continued to give light to the world, long as the circle of ages has revolved." Like as the serpent rolls itself up, hissing and hiding its sting under a rock, when the eagle, soaring into those re- gions where the winds blow not, above lightnings, snow and tempests, looks down upon the beasts, the fishes and the reptiles beneath him, thus Khotin trembles before the eagle of Russia; thus its inhabitants crouch within its walls. What led your Tartar race, Kalchak, 1 to bend so promptly beneath the Russian power? to deliver up the keys of your town in token of submission, evading thus disgrace more deep ? The clemency of Anna, of her who is ever ready to raise the suppliant. Where flows the Vistula, and where the glorious Rhine, even there her olive-trees have flourished ; there have the proud hearts of her defeated foes yielded up their lives. Joyful are the lands which have thrown off the cruel yoke ; the burden the Turks had laid on them is thrown back upon themselves! The barbarian hands which held them in re- straint now wear their chains in captivity; and the feet are shackled which trampled down the field of the stranger, and drove away his flocks. Not thus alone must thou be humbled ; not all thy punish- ment this, O Turkey! A far greater hast thou merited, for thou didst refuse to let us live in peace. Still does the rage of your haughty souls forbid you to bend before Anna ? Where would ye hide yourselves from her? Damascus, Cairo, Aleppo, shall flame! Crete shall be surrounded with her fleets; Euphrates shall be dyed with your blood. 1 Kalchak-pasha was the commander of Khotin. Mikhail Vasilevich Lomon6sov 251 A sudden and universal change ! A dazzling vision passes before my eyes, and with heaven's purest beams outshines the brightness of the day ! The voices of heroes strike upon my ear. Anna's joyous baud, in glory clad, bear up eternity beyond the starry orbs, and Truth with her golden pen traces her glorious deeds in that book which is not reached by cor- ruption. Russia thrives like a young lily under Anna's care; within China's distant walls she is honoured, and every corner of the earth is filled with her subjects' glory. Happy art thou, O my country, under the rule of thy Empress! Bright the laurels thou hast gained by this triumph. Fear not the ills of war; they fly from the land where Anna is glorified by her people. Malicious envy may pour forth her poison, she may gnaw her tongue in rage. Our joy heeds it not. The robbers who, from beyond the Dniester, came to plunder the fields of the Cossacks, are driven back, scattered like dust; no longer dare they venture on that soil where the fruits of the earth and the blessings of peace together flourish. In safety the merchant pursues his traffic, and the mariner sees a boundary to the waves; no obstacles impede his course. The old and the young are happy; he who wished for the hour of death now prays for lengthened life; his heart is gladdened by his country's triumphs. The shepherd drives his flocks into the meadow, and enters the forest without fear; there, with his friend who tends his sheep, he sings the song of joy, his theme the bravery of the soldier; he blesses the passing moments of his life, and im- plores endless peace on the spot where he sleeps in quiet. Thus, in the simple sincerity of his heart, he glorifies her who shields him from his enemies. O thou great Empress ! The love of Russia, the dread of thy foes, the heroine of the northern world, the hope, the joy, the goddess of the shores of seven wide seas, thou shinest in the cloudless lights of goodness and beneficence. Forgive thy slave that he has chosen thy glory for his lay, and that his rugged verse, in token of submission to thy rule, has thus dared to attempt to magnify thy power. Given in F. 252 The Eighteenth Century R. Grahame's The Progress of Science, Art and Literature in Russia. MORNING MEDITATIONS O'er the wide earth yon torch of heavenly light Its splendour spreads and God's proud works unveils; My soul, enraptured at the marvellous sight, Unwonted peace, and joy, and wonder feels, And with uplifted thoughts of ecstasy Exclaims, " How great must their Creator be! " Or, if a mortal's power could stretch so high If mortal sight could reach that glorious sun, And look undazzled at its majesty, 'T would seem a fiery ocean burning on From time's first birth, whose ever-flaming ray Could ne'er extinguished be by time's decay. There waves of fire 'gainst waves of fire are dashing, And know no bounds; there hurricanes of flame, As if in everlasting combat flashing, Roar with a fury which no time can tame: There molten mountains boil like ocean-waves, And rain in burning streams the welkin laves. But in Thy presence all is but a spark, A little spark : that wondrous orb was lighted By Thy own hand, the dreary and the dark Pathway of man to cheer of man benighted ; To guide the march of seasons in their way, And place us in a paradise of day. Dull Night her sceptre sways o'er plains and hills, O'er the dark forest and the foaming sea; Thy wondrous energy all nature fills, And leads our thoughts, and leads our hopes to Thee. " How great is God! " a million tongues repeat, And million tongues re-echo, " God, how great! " Mikhail Vasilevich Lomonosov 253 But now again the day star bursts the gloom, Scattering its sunshine o'er the opening sky; Thy eye, that pierces even through the tomb, Has chased the clouds, has bid the vapours fly; And smiles of light, descending from above, Bathe all the universe with joy and love. -From Sir John Bowring's Specimens of the Russian Poets. EVENING MEDITATIONS ON SEEING THE AURORA BOREAUS The day retires, the mists of night are spread Slowly o'er nature, darkening as they rise; The gloomy clouds are gathering round our heads, And twilight's latest glimmering gently dies:' The stars awake in heaven's abyss of blue; Say, who can count them ? Who can sound it ? Who ? Even as a sand in the majestic sea, A diamond- atom on a hill of snow, A spark amidst a Hecla's majesty, An unseen mote where maddened whirlwinds blow, And I midst scenes like these the mighty thought O'erwhelms me I am nought, or less than nought. And science tells me that each twinkling star That smiles above us is a peopled sphere, Or central sun, diffusing light afar; A link of nature's chain: and there, even there, The Godhead shines displayed in love and light, Creating wisdom all-directing might. Where are thy secret laws, O Nature, where ? In wintry realms thy dazzling torches blaze, And from thy icebergs streams of glory there Are poured, while other suns their splendent race In glory run : from frozen seas what ray Of brightness ? From yon realms of night what day ? 254 The Eighteenth Century Philosopher, whose penetrating eye Reads nature's deepest secrets, open now This all-inexplicable mystery : Why do earth's darkest, coldest regions glow With lights like these ? Oh, tell us, knowing one, For thou dost count the stars, and weigh the sun ! Whence are these varied lamps all lighted round ? Whence all the horizon's glowing fire ? The heaven Is splendent as with lightning but no sound Of thunder all as calm as gentlest even ; And winter's midnight is as bright, as gay, As the fair noontide of a summer's day. What stores of fire are these, what magazine, Whence God from grossest darkness light supplies ? What wondrous fabric which the mountains screen, Whose bursting flames above those mountains rise; Where rattling winds disturb the mighty ocean, And the proud waves roll with eternal motion ? Vain is the inquiry all is darkness, doubt: This earth is one vast mystery to man. First find the secrets of this planet out, Then other planets, other systems scan ! Nature is veiled from thee, presuming clod! And what canst thou conceive of Nature's God ? From Sir John Bowring's Specimens of the Russian Poets. Alexander Petrdvich Sumar6kov. (1718-1777.) Sumar6kov is the first litterateur of Russia, that is, the first man to regard literature as a profession, independently of an official position. After graduating from the military school, in 1740, he served for a while under some military commanders, but devoted all his leisure time to writing poetry according to the rules laid down by Tredyak6v- ski. There was no species of poetical literature in which he did not try himself and did not produce prolifically. He has left odes, eulogies, fables, satires and dramas. In many of these he broke virgin soil in Russia, and in his unexampled conceit he was not slow to proclaim his highest deserts : " What Athens has seen and Paris Alexander Petr6vich Sumar6kov 255 now sees, after a long period of transition, that you, O Russia, have perceived at once by my efforts." In spite of bis mediocrity and ac- quaintance with only the pseudo-classic French style (for he disdained all serious study of antiquity), Sumar6kov was highly valued in his day, and his example has done much to advance Russian literature. In 1756 the Russian Theatre was created by a decree of the Senate, and Sumar6kov was chosen as its first director. To fill his repertoire, he was compelled to write plays himself, and he produced them with astounding facility. His best drama is probably The False Deme- trius, though there is little historical truth in it. In 1761 he issued the first independent journal, The Industrious Bee, which, however, was filled mainly with his own writings. Sumar6kov's influence on Rus- sian letters lasted up to the time of Pushkin, though Karamzin was the first to doubt his greatness. Sumar6kov's The False Demetrius has been translated into Eng- lish : Demetrius the Impostor ; a tragedy [in five acts and in prose], translated from the Russian, London, 1806. Act II., Scene 7, is also given in C. E. Turner's Studies in Russian Literature, and, the same, in Eraser's Magazine, 1877. THE FALSE DEMETRIUS ACT II., SCENE I. GEORGE AND XENIA Xenia, Blessed in the world is that purple-bearing man who does not suppress the freedom of our souls, who elevates himself for society's good, and with leniency adorns his royal dignity, who gives his subjects auspicious days, and whom evildoers alone have cause to fear. George. O thou sad Kremlin ! Thou art this day a witness how that virtue was cast down from the throne. Languish- ing Moscow trembles in despair; happiness flees its walls in sorrow; the bright days seem darker than dense night; the fair groves about Moscow are clad in sombreness. When the solemn bell rings in the city, it seems to us that it repeats the city's general groan and that it proclaims our Church's fall through the machinations of the pope. O Lord, remove that terror from the Russians! Already the report flies through the square that Clement has promised reward in heaven to the rebels, the foes of our country's city, and that he in advance forgives them all their sins. Moscow will suffer as suffers the New World ! There the papists have 256 The Eighteenth Century stained with blood the earth, have slaughtered its inhabit- ants, have plundered the surviving, have burnt the innocent in their own land, holding the cross in one hand, in the other the bloody sword. What has happened to them in their dire fate will now, O Russia, be done to you! Xenia. All powers of evil, Demetrius, Clement, Hell, will not efface you from my heart! O Heaven, remove the fury of the papal power, and with it Xenia's unbearable distress, that Russia might raise its head, and I might be my sweetheart's wife! Grant us to see the monarch on the throne, subject to truth, not arbitrary will ! All truth has withered; the tyrant's law is only what he wants; but on the happiness of their subjects are based the laws of righteous kings, for their immortal glory. God's vicar is to be the Tsar. Strike me, destroy me, merciless Tsar ! Megaera has swept you from Tartarus, the Caucasus has borne you, Hyr- cania has nurtured you. The heretic, with his crowd of slaves, will, cursing, oust the bodies of saintly men from their graves. Their names will in Russia for ever perish, and the houses of God will in Moscow be deserted. Nation, tear the crown from the creator of dire torments; hasten, wrest the sceptre from the barbarian's hands! SCENE 7 Demetrius (alone). My crown lies not firmly upon my head, and the end of my greatness is at hand. Each moment I expect a sudden change. O Kremlin's walls that frighten me! Meseems each hour you announce to me: "Villain, you are a foe, a foe to us and the whole land ! " The citizens proclaim : ' ' You have ruined us ! " And the temples weep : " We are stained with blood! " The fair places about Mos- cow are deserted, and Hell from its abyss has oped its jaws at me; I see the sombre steps that lead to the infernal re- gions, and the tormented shades of Tartarus: I am already in Gehenna, and burn in the flame; I cast my glance to heaven, and see the celestial regions: there are good kings in all the beauty of their natures, and angels besprinkle them with dew of paradise; but what hope have I to-day in my Alexander Petr6vich Sumar6kov 257 despair? I shall be tormented in eternity even as I suffer now. 1 am not a crowned potentate in a magnificent city, but an evil malefactor, in hell tormented. I perish, drag- ging a multitude of the people to destruction. Flee, tyrant, flee ! From whom ? From myself, for I see no one else be- fore me. Run ! But whither ? Your hell is ever with you! The assassin is here, run! But I am that assassin! I tremble before myself, and before my shade. I shall avenge myself! On whom ? Myself. Do I hate myself ? I love myself! For what? I see it not. All cry against me: rapine, unfair justice, all terrible things, they cry together against me. I live to the misfortune, shall die to the fortune of my nearest. The fate of men, the lowliest, I envy: even the mendicant is sometimes happy in his poverty. But I rule here, and am always tormented. Endure and perish, having ascended the throne by deceit ! Drive, and be driven ! Live and die a tyrant ! INSTRUCTION TO A SON Perceiving his tearful end near at hand, a father thus in- structed his beloved, only begotten son: " My son, beloved son ! I am old to-day; my mind grows dull, my fervour is all gone; I am preparing to go before the Judge, and shall soon pass to eternity, the immeasurable abode of mortals. So I wish to tell you how you may live, and to show you the road to happiness. You will travel over a slippery path : though all in the world is vanity, yet why should one disdain happiness in life ? Our whole mind ought to be bent upon obtaining it, and our endeavour should be to get all we need. " Give up that chimera which men call honour; of what good is it when you have nothing to eat ? It is impossible to get along in commerce without cheating, and in poverty without dishonesty and theft. By hook and by crook I have scraped together a fortune for you; now, if you should squander it all, I shall have sold my soul in vain. When- ever I think of that, my rest is gone. 258 The Eighteenth Century " Increase your income, keep indolence from your heart, and keep your money against an evil day. Steal, if you can steal, but do it secretly, by all means increase your income every year ! The eye is not satisfied with mere looking on. If you can cheat, cheat artfully, for 'tis a shame to be caught in the act, and it often leads to the gallows. Make no acquaintances for the mere sake of knowing them, but put your spoon there where the jam is thickest ! Revere the rich, to get your tribute from them. Never tire praising them with condescension ; but if they be distinguished people, subdue them by creeping ! "Be humble with all men, and simulate! If a mighty person chides anyone, together with the mighty chide him ! Praise those whom the powerful praise, and belittle those they belittle! Keep your eyes wide open and watch whom great boydrs are angry with. " If you walk upon the straight road, you will find no fortune. Swim there where favourable winds carry you! Against men whom the people honour speak not a word; and let your soul be ever ready to thank them, though you receive nothing from them! Endeavour to speak like them. Whatever the puissant man says are sacred words; never contradict him, for you are a small man ! If he say red of that which is black, say too: ' 'T is rather red! ' Be- fore low-born men rave like a devil ; for if you do not, they will forget who you are, and will not respect you : the com- mon people honour those who are haughty. But before the high-born leap like a frog, and remember that a farthing is as nothing in comparison with a rouble. Big souls have they, but we, my beloved son, have only little souls! Be profuse in thanks, if you expect some favour from your benefactor; spare your thanks where you have nothing to gain, for your grateful spirit will be lost. " Do yourself no injury, and remain honest to yourself, loving yourself most sincerely! Do no injury to yourself, but for others have only appearances, and remember how little wisdom there is in the world, and how many fools. Satisfy them with empty words: honour yourself with your Alexander Petr6vich Sumar6kov 259 heart, but others with your lips, for you will have to pay no toll for fondling them. I^et others think that you place yourself much lower than them, and that you have little re- gard for yourself; but do not forget that your shirt is nearer to your body than your caftan ! " I will allow you to play cards, provided you know how to handle them. A game without cunning has no inter- est, and playing you must not sacrifice yourself to others. Whatever game you play, my son, remember not to be always honest! Have contempt for peasants, seeing them below your feet, but let your lips proclaim the puissant as gods, and speak no surly word to them. But love none of them, no matter what their worth, though their deeds be trumpeted through the subsolar world! Give bribes, and yourself accept them ! When there are no witnesses, steal and cheat as much as you please, but be wary with your misdoings in presence of witnesses ! Change the good that there is in people into evil, and never say a good word of another! For what are you to gain from praising them? Indeed, their virtues put you only in a bad light. Go not out of the way to serve another, where there is no gain for you. " Hate the learned, and despise the ignorant, and ever keep your thoughts fresh for your own advantage ! Above all, beware of getting into the satire of impudent scribblers ! Disturb and break the ties of families, friendship and marriage, for 't is more convenient to fish in muddy waters. Know no love, family nor friends, for ever holding yourself alone in mind! Deceive your friends, and let them suffer through you sorrow and misfortune, if you are the winner thereby! Garner your fruits wherever you can! There are some who foolishly call it dishonest to bring woes to your friends, but they do not see that duty teaches me only to love myself, and that it is not at all dishonourable when necessity demands that others perish : it is contrary to nature not to love yourself best. Let misfortune befall my country, let it go to the nethermost regions; let everything that is not mine be ruined, provided I have peace. 260 The Eighteenth Century 1 ' Forget not my rules ! I have left you my fortune and my wisdom. Live, my son, live as your father has lived! " He had barely uttered these words, when he was struck by lightning, and he departed from his child and home; and the soul that had for so long been disseminating poison flew out of the body and took its flight to hell. TO THE CORRUPTERS OF LANGUAGE In a strange laud there lived a dog in a thick forest. He deemed his citizens to be uncultured, so passed his days in the country of the wolves and bears. The dog no longer barked, but growled like a bear, and sang the songs of wolves. When he returned to the dogs, he out of reason adorned his native tongue. He mixed the growl of bears and howl of wolves into his bark, and began to speak unin- telligibly to dogs. The dogs said : ' ' We need not your new- fangled music you only spoil our language with it" ; and they began to bite him, until they killed him. I have read the tombstone of that dog: " Never disdain your native speech, and introduce into it nothing foreign, but adorn yourself with your own beauty." THE HELPFUL GNAT Six fine horses were pulling an immense carriage. The carriage would have been a heavy one without any people in it; but this enormous carriage was filled with people, and was in size a haj'Stack. It slowly moved along, travelling not over boards, but carrying the master and his wife through heavy sand, in which it finally stuck fast. The horses' strength gave out ; the lackeys on the footboard, to save the horses and wheels, stepped down ; but yet the rick did not move. The driver called to the horses: " Get up, get up! " and struck them with the whip, as if it was their guilt. He struck them hard and yelled and yelled, until he grew hoarse, while the horses were covered with foam, and steam rose from them. A gnat flew by, perceived the plight of the carriage, and Alexander Petrovich Sumarokov 261 was anxious to do it a good turn, and help it out. So it began to goad the horses and the driver, to make the driver on his box more agile, and that the horses might draw with more vim. Now it stung the driver, now the horses; it perspired, worked with might and main, but all in vain; it buzzed and buzzed, but all its songs were useless ; there was not the slightest sign that the carriage would move ; so after having laboured hard, it flew away. In the meanwhile, the horses had rested themselves, and dragged the huge mass out of the sand. The gnat saw the carriage from afar, and said: " How foolish it all was of me to abandon the carriage just as it was to move! 'T is true I have worked hard in the sand, but at least I have moved the carriage." FOUR ANSWERS You ask me, my friend, what I would do: (i) if I were a small man and a small gentleman ; (2) if I were a great man and a small gentleman; (3) if -I were a great man and a great gentleman ; (4) if I were a small man and a great gentleman. To the first question I answer : I should use all my endeavour to become acquainted in the houses of distinguished people and men of power ; I would not allow a single holiday to pass, without making the round of the city, in order to give the compliments of the season ; I would walk on tiptoes in the antechambers of the mighty, and would treat their valets to tobacco; I would learn to play all kinds of games, for when you play cards you can sit down shoulder to shoulder with the most distinguished people, and then bend over to them and say in a low tone: " I have the honour to report to your Excellency such and such an affair," or again become bolder and exclaim: " You have thirteen and I fourteen." I would not dispute anything, but would only say: "Just so; cer- tainly so; most certainly so; absolutely so." I would tell the whole world that such and such a distinguished gentle- man had condescended to speak to me, and if I could not say so truthfully, I would lie about it, for nothing so adorns speech as a lie, to which poets are witnesses. 262 The Eighteenth Century Finally, I would obtain by humility and flatter}' a profit- able place, but above all I would strive to become a gover- nor, for that place is profitable, honourable and easy. It is profitable, because everybody brings gifts; it is honourable, because everybody bows before a governor; it is easy, be- cause there is very little work to do, and that is done by a secretary or scribe, and, they being sworn people, one may entirely rely upon them. A scribe has been created by God by whom man has been created, and that opinion is foolish which assumes that a scribe's soul is devoid of virtue. I believe there is little difference between a man and a scribe, much less difference than between a scribe and any other creature. If I were a great man and a small gentleman, I would, in my constant attempt to be useful to my country and the world at large, never become burdensome to anyone, and would put all my reliance upon my worth and my deserts to my country ; and if I should find myself deceived in this, I should become insane from so much patience, and should be a man who not only does nothing, but even thinks nothing. If I were a great man and a great gentleman, I would without cessation think of the welfare of my country, of in- citements to virtue and dignity, the reward of merit, the suppression of vice and lawlessness, the increase of learning, the cheapening of the necessaries of life, the preservation of justice, the punishment for taking bribes, for grasping, robbery and theft, the diminution of lying, flattery, hypoc- risy and drunkenness, the expulsion of superstition, the abatement of unnecessary luxury, the limitation of games at cards which rob people of their valuable time, the education, the founding and maintenance of schools, the maintenance of a well -organised army, the scorn of rudeness, and the eradication of parasitism. But if I were a small man and a great gentleman, I would live in great magnificence, for such magnificence is rarely to be found in a great soul; but I will not say what else I would do. Vasili Iv4novich M4ykov 263 Vasili Ivdnovich M&ykov. (1728-1778.) Maykov was the son of a landed proprietor. He entered military service, in 1766 was made Associate Governor of Moscow, and occu- pied other high offices. He began to write early and, being an ad- mirer of Sumar6kov, like all the other writers of his day, he wrote odes, eulogies, fables, tragedies, all of them in the pseudo-classic style. He knew no foreign languages, and his imitations are at second hand. This, however, gave him a great advantage over his contempo- raries, in that he was better acquainted with Russian reality than with foreign models. His mock-heroic poem Elisy, or Excited Bacchus^ from which "The Battle of the Zimog6rans and Valdayans," given below, is an extract, is far superior for real humour, Russian environ- ment and good popular diction to anything else produced by the Russian writers of the eighteenth century ; and the undisputed popu- larity of the Elis&y, which was not dimmed even by Bogdan6vich's Pysche, was well merited. THE BATTLE OF THE ZIMOGORANS AND VAL- DAYANS The field was all ploughed and sowed in oats, and after these labours all the cattle and we were resting. Already had the grain sprouted a quarter of an inch, and our time had come to cut the hay. Our meadow, as all know well, bordered on the meadow of the Valdayans; no one could tell where the line between them was but a surveyor, so the strongest hand mowed the grass there, and the meadows were always a cause of quarrels; even then they were the cause of our terrible battle. The day had come, and we went into the meadow, taking with us milk, eggs and whey-cheese, loading ourselves with kvas, beets, dumplings, brandy and buckwheat cakes. No sooner had we appeared with our provender in the meadow, than we espied the host before us: the proud Valdayans were standing there with arms of war. We became frightened and ran away like rabbits, and running we looked for weapons resembling theirs: withes, pales, poles, cudgels and clubs. We vied with each other to arm ourselves with sticks and to prepare ourselves for the fray. The chief of our village, foreseeing a terrible calamity, seated himself on his horse 264 The Eighteenth Century and gathered us all together; having gotten us together, he took a pen and began to scribble. Though he was not a Frenchman nor a Greek, but a Russian, yet he was a govern- ment official and wore a crimson uniform. God forfend that a scribe should be a military commander! He took out his pen, and began to write down the names, while our backs were already smarting from the descent of a hail of stones upon them. Is it possible Pallas was with the scribe ? For he was still writing down names, while the Valddyans were drubbing us. Old women in the huts were lamenting to heaven; small children, all the girls and women, and chickens hid behind the stove and underneath it. Seeing that there was to be no end to his writing, we no longer listened to the scribe, but like a whirlwind swept down from all sides and, pressing forward in a mass, hastened to the fight. Neither fences nor water could keep us back, and the only salvation for the Vald&yans was in flight; but they stood out stubbornly against us, and with agility swung their wooden arms at us. We could not break asunder the order of their ranks, and from both sides there flew upon us stones and mud, the implements of war of furious men. We were bespattering and striking each other down without mercy, but ours stood like a firm wall. Forgive me for mentioning names which it would not be otherwise proper to utter here, except that without them we would not have been victorious. Even if our scribe had been much wiser, he would not have broken that wall with his skull, which we barely smashed with our clubs. We had for some time been striking each other mightily with stones, when our Stepka the intrepid (he was not very clever, but a powerful man) rushed with grim rage into the thickest fight among the Vald&yans: he struck them down with a cudgel, and they raised a cry, but Ste"pka hacked among them like a butcher. Then his nephew, too, took a club, flew at them, but lost courage and showed them his back, whereupon a frisky Valddyan jumped upon it and was on top of our hero. In the very midst of the sanguinary fray he had jumped upon the hero's shoulder, and boasted before his whole horde that Vasili Ivanovich Maykov 265 he had begun with a battle and had ended with leapfrog. But the jest ended badly for him, for the Valddyan had not yet thanked us for the ride, when Stepka's nephew grabbed the Valdayan by the girdle and so hurled him to the ground that he broke his nose and so flattened it that he now has to wear a plaster upon it. Then, lo, we all suddenly noticed in the distance a rider all covered with dust: that was the proud leader of the Val- ddyans; that beast was a worthy likeness of our own man- ager. Raging with an internal fire against us, he galloped upon his steed towards our hero. All thought that they would end the terrible battle by a duel ; we all stood in quiet expectancy, and terror seized us all. Already the heroes approached each other on their horses, but suddenly, it seemed, they changed their minds: they did not fight, they only cursed each other, leaving us alone to finish the battle, while their horses took them back to their homes. In the meantime, if you wish to know it, the sun shone so that it was time for us to dine; if the accursed battle had not taken place, I, no doubt, would have swallowed two or three bites by that time; but, under the circumstances, I thought neither of beet soup nor buckwheat mush. When the horses had taken away the commanders, we car- ried on a real war: all order was suddenly gone, and at the same time all distinction of great and small disappeared; we were all mixed up, and all were equal. Suddenly my brother swooped down like a hawk, to aid us, and he mixed up the battle, like wheat mush in a vat. Accuse me not of lying in what I am going to tell of my brother: holding a heavy club in his hand, he carried terror to all our enemies: wherever he passed there was a street, and where he turned about, there was a square. He had been vanquishing the Valday- ans for an hour, and they had all been running away from him, when all at once there appeared his adversary. My brother's exploit was stopped, for that Valdayan hung upon his neck, and bit off my brother's right ear. And thus my beloved brother Ilyukha, who had come to the battle with ears, went away with but one. He dragged himself 266 The Eighteenth Century along, bleeding like a pig, maimed, torn, but above all, disgraced. Think of my loss ! He lost an ear, and I a brother ! Since then I no longer recognise him as my brother. Do not im- agine that I have spoken this in vain : when he was possessed of both ears, he was easily moved by the words of the un- fortunate ; but now that door is entirely locked, and he hears only when one says: " Here, take this! " but he no longer hears the word " give," and with his left ear accepts nobody's prayers. In an empty well it is not likely you will find a treasure, and without it I do not care even for my brother. Having lost such a hero, we were bereft of all means of victory; the Valdayans henceforth got the better of us, struck us down, pressed hard upon us and drove us from the field. We should have been that day entirely undone, had not Ste"pka saved us from our dire distress: like a bolt of lightning he suddenly rushed upon us from behind, and stopped us, who were then in full flight. " Stand still, good fellows!" he yelled, "stand still! Come together in close array, and begin anew the battle!" All was changed. O most happy hour! At Stpka's voice crowds of men came together, came, bore down the adversary, defeated them, and wrung the victory they held from their hands. They rushed together, correcting their disorder, and hotter than before the battle was renewed. Already we were driving our enemy back to their village, and depriving them of their cudgels and sticks, and our battle would have been at an end, if a monk had not ap- peared to their aid. This new Balaam was urging on his beast and beating it with a stick for its sluggishness; but all his beating of his dobbin moved her not a step ahead. He somehow managed to reach the top of the hill, and there his holy lips uttered curses against us. But neither these, nor the wooden arms, kept us back, and we flew against our enemy, and did our work among them. That worthy man, seeing our stubbornness, leaped from his horse, and showed the swiftness of his feet, which was greater than when he first had come, and, showing us his back, fled to his house. Vasili Ivanovich Maykoy 267 Dark night had already put out its veil, when all were worn out with fighting. The Valddyans being vanquished, we all went from the field, and reached home, though hungry, yet alive. THE COOK AND THE TAILOR 'T is easier for a cook to roast and stew than for a tailor to talk of cookery. It was, I know not where, in Lithuania or Poland, he knows of it who knows more than I ; all I know is that a lord was travelling, and as he was returning from a visit he was, naturally, drunk. A man came from the oppos- ite direction, and he met the lord, phiz to phiz. The lord was blown up with conceit and liquor, and two servants led his horse for him. The horse strutted proudly along, and the lord was steeped in arrogance like a cock. The man that met him was poorly clad. The lord interrogated him, like a man of sense: " What handicraft have you ?," "A cook, my lord, stands before you." " If so, then answer me, before I spit into your face: you are a cook, so you know what dainties are; what then is the greatest dainty ? " "A roast pig's hide," the cook answered without hesita- tion. " You, cook, are not a fool," the lord said to him, " and gave me readily an answer, from which I conclude that you know your business." With these words, the lord gave him a generous reward, just like a father, though he had begot no children. My cook, for joy, tripped lightly along and was soon out of sight. Whom should he meet but a tailor, an old acquaintance, nay, a friend, not to the grave, yet a friend. 4 ' Whither do you hurry so fast, friend Ilyd ? ' ' The other replied: "Now, my friend, I can boldly as- sure you that the cook's profession is better than yours. You, drunken Petrushka, do not even guess that Ilyd is going to have a big celebration! Look at my pocket. I 268 The Eighteenth Century and my wife will be satisfied with what we now have; we cannot unto our deaths spend all the lord, who just passed me drunk upon the road, has given me. ' ' And he pulled out his purse that was filled with gold coins: 11 That 's what I got for a pig! " And he showed his money in his bag, and told his friend all that had happened. The tailor was melting with envy, as he tried to count the money, and he thought: " Of course the lord is a fool for having given a bag full of money for a pig; I will run after him, and overtake him, and if all the wisdom is only in a pig's hide, I '11 shave him clean, like a scribe." Having said this, the senseless man started on the road. The lord was riding leisurely along, and as the tailor was running fast, he soon overtook him. He cried to him: " Wait, lord! I am not a Tartar, and I will not cut you down; I have no sword, and I will not injure you. I am all worn out with running; I am a cook, and not a thief." The lord heard the words and, looking back, saw that it was not a robber with a club, so he reined in his horse. The tailor ran up to him, panting like a dog, and barely breath- ing, having lost his strength in running. The lord asked him: ' ' Why, beast, have you been running so senselessly after me ? You have only frightened me : I thought it was a robber with a club that was after me." The tailor said: " I am not a thief, my lord! " To which the lord: " What manner of creature are you, then?" ' ' I am a cook by trade, and know how to stew and roast well." The lord asked him at once : ' ' What is the sweetest part of the ox?" The rash man said: " The hide." No sooner said than the cook's sides and face, and belly and back were swollen, being struck with a whip. The tailor walked slowly off, weeping disconsolately, and cursing the lord and the trade of a cook. Mikhail Vasilevich Danilov 269 Mikhail Vasilevich Danilov. (1722-1790.) The lifemoirs of Danilov are interesting for the reason that they in- dicate the sources from real life from which Catherine II., Fon-Vizin and others drew the characters for their comedies. Thus, Matre"na Petr6vna of Danilov's Memoirs is the prototype of Mdvra's mistress in O Tempora (p. 272) and of Mrs. Uncouth in The Minor, p. 342. FROM HIS "MEMOIRS" I was my father's favourite son. When I was about seven years old, or more, I was turned over, in the village of Kharin where my father lived, to the sexton Philip, named Bru- ddsty, for instruction. The sexton was of low stature, broad in his shoulders ; a large round beard covered his chest, his head of thick hair came down to his shoulders, and gave the appearance of having no neck. There studied with him at the same time two of my cousins, Klis6y and Boris. Our teacher Bruddsty lived alone with his wife in a very small hut ; I used to come to Brudasty for my lessons early in the morning, and I never dared to open his door, until I had said aloud my prayer, and he answered "Amen. ' ' I remem- ber to the present day the instruction I received from Bru- ddsty, probably for the reason that he often whipped me with a switch. I cannot in all faithfulness say that I was then guilty of indolence or stubbornness; on the contrary I studied very well for my years, and my teacher gave me lessons of moderate length and not above my strength, so that I readily memorised them. But we were not allowed to leave Bruddsty for a moment, except for dinner; we had to sit un- interruptedly on the bench, and during the long summer days I suffered greatly from this continuous sitting, and grew so faint that my memory left me, and when it came to reciting my lesson in the evening, I had forgotten all I knew, and could not read half of it, for which the final resolve was that I was to be whipped for my stupidity. I grew to believe that punishment was an indispensable ac- companiment of study. Bruddsty 's wife kept on inciting us, during the absence of her husband, that we should yell 270 The Eighteenth Century louder, even if it was not our lesson. We felt some relief in our tedious sitting when Bruddsty was away in the field working. Whenever Bruddsty returned I recited my les- sons correctly and without breaking down, just as I did in the morning when my thoughts were not yet tired out. From this I conclude that compulsory study is useless to the child, because the mental powers weaken from bodily labour and become languid. This truth becomes apparent when we compel a child to play beyond its pleasure: both the game and toys become wearisome to the child from mere ennui, and it will rarely play with them, if not altogether hate them. . . . Such is the fruit of senseless and worthless teachers, like Bruddsty : from mere weary sitting, I got into the habit of inventing all kinds of accidents and diseases, which, in reality, I never had. Having learned the ABC from Bruddsty, my father took me near the city of Tula to a widow, Matrena Petr6vna, who had married a relative of ours, Afandsi Denisovich Danilov. Matr6na Petr6vna had at her house a nephew of hers and heir to her property, Epishk6v. It was for his sake that she had asked my father to bring me to her house to study, that her nephew might have a companion. As the widow loved her nephew very much and fondled him, we were never com- pelled to study; but being left to my choice in the matter, and fearing no punishment, I soon finished my oral instruc- tion, which consisted only of the two books: the Book of the Hours and the Psalter. The widow was a very pious woman : hardly a day passed without having divine services in her house, either with a priest, or sometimes a servant acted in his capacity. I was employed to read the prayers during these services, and as the widow's favourite cousin had not yet learned to read, he, from great envy and anger, used to come to the table where I was reading the psalms, and kick me so painfully with his boots that I could not repress my tears. Though the widow saw her nephew's naughtiness, she never said anything more than in a drawling voice, as if against her will: " Vdn- ya, you have had enough fun! " as though she did not see Mikhail Vasilevich Danilov 271 that Vdnya's fun had caused tears to flow from my eyes. She could not read ; but she used to open every day a large book on her table, and pretended to read loudly the prayer of the Holy Virgin to her people. The widow was very fond of cabbage soup with mutton at dinner, and I must confess that as long as I lived at her house I do not remember a single day that passed without a drubbing. The moment she seated herself at the table to eat her favourite soup, some of the servants dragged the cook that had cooked the soup into the dining-room, put her on the floor and merci- lessly beat her with rods, and the widow never stopped eating as long as they beat the cook and she cried with pain; that had become a regular custom and evidently served to heighten her appetite. The widow was so stout that her width was only a trifle less than her height. One day her nephew and I took a walk, and there was with us a young servant of hers who taught us to read and was at the same time studying himself. Her nephew and prospect- ive heir led us to an apple-tree that grew outside the enclos- ure, and he began to knock down some apples, without having first asked his aunt's permission. This crime was reported to his aunt. She ordered all three of us to be brought into her presence for a just punishment. She ordered in great anger to take up at once our innocent serv- ant and teacher and to place him on a wooden horse, and he was unmercifully whipped for a long time, while they kept on repeating: " Don't knock the apples off the tree! " Then came my turn : the widow ordered to have me put on the horse, and I received three blows on my back, though I, like the teacher, had not knocked down any apples. Her nephew was frightened, and he thought that his turn would now come to be punished, but his fear was groundless; all the widow did was to reprimand him as follows: "It is wrong, it is not proper, sir, to knock down apples without having received my permission," and then she kissed him and said: " I suppose, Vdnya, you were frightened as they whipped your companions; don't be afraid, my darling! I '11 not have you whipped." 272 The Eighteenth Century- Catherine the Great. (1729-1796.) The French culture, which had held sway in Russia before Catherine II., became even more pronounced when she ascended the throne. She corresponded with Voltaire, offered d'Alembert the place of tutor to her son, paid Diderot a salary as keeper of his own library, which she had purchased from him, and, in the first part of her reign, laboured, at least platonically, for the introduction of new laws in the spirit of Rousseau and Montesquieu. She planned to build schools and academies, encouraged the establishment of printing presses, by mak- ing them free from government control, and by her own example did much to foster literature. One of her earliest ventures is her famous Instruction for the commission that had been called to present a pro- ject for a new code of laws. She composed a large number of come- dies, tragedies and operas, wrote a work on Russian proverbs and a number of fairy tales. Of the latter her Prince Khlor gave Derzhavin an occasion to immortalise her as Felitsa, and to inaugurate a new style of ode. Catherine was the first to found a satirical journal, the All Kinds of Things (see p. 326), the prototype of a number of similar periodical publications. The latter part of her reign is characterised by a reactionary tendency, due to her general distrust of the Masons, who had taken a firm foothold in Russia and whom she suspected of favouring the French Revolution. She then put literature under a ban, and caused much annoyance to men like N6vikov and Radishchev. Her Prince Khlor has been translated into English under the title : Ivan Czarovitz; or, The Rose Without Prickles That Stings Not, A Tale, written by her Imperial Majesty, translated from the Russian Language, London, 1793. It had previously appeared in a periodical paper, The Bee, published at Edinburgh. It is reproduced here. Act I., Scene 4, of Mrs. Grumble's Birthday, in C. E. Turner's Studies in Russian Literature, and the same, in Fraser's Magazine, 1877. There is also a translation of Catherine's Memoirs, originally writ- ten by her in French, under the title: Memoirs of the Empress Catherine II., Written by Herself, with a Preface by A. Herzen, translated from the French, London and New York, 1859. O TEMPORA ACT I., SCENE I. MR. SENSIBLE, MAVRA Mdvra. Believe me, I am telling you the truth. You cannot see her. She is praying now, and I dare not go into her room myself. Sensible. Does she really pray all day long ? No matter Catherine the Great 273 at what time I come, I am told I cannot see her: she was this morning at matins, and now she is praying again. Mdvra. That is the way our time is passed. Sensible. It is good to pray. But there are also duties in our life, which we are obliged to carry out. Do you mean to tell me that she prays day and night ? Mdvra. No. Our exercises are often changed, yet all goes in a certain order. Sometimes we have simple serv- ices; at others they read the Monthly Readings; at others again the reading is omitted, and our lady gives us a ser- mon on prayer, abstinence and fasting. Sensible. I have heard it said that your lady is very sancti- monious, but I have not heard much about her virtues. Mdvra. To tell the truth, I cannot say much about that ' either. She very often speaks to her servants on abstinence and fasting, especially when she distributes the monthly allowances. She never shows so much earnestness in pray- ing as when creditors come and ask to be paid for goods taken on credit. She once hurled the prayer-book so violently at my head that she hurt me and I was compelled to lie in bed for nearly a week. And why ? Because I came during vesper service to report that the merchant had come to ask for his money which he had loaned to her at six per cent., and which she had loaned out again at sixteen. "Accursed one," she cried to me, " is this a time to disturb me ? You have come, like Satan, to tempt me with worldly affairs at a time when all my thoughts are given to repentance and are removed from all cares of this world. ' ' After having uttered this in great anger, she hurled her prayer-book at my temple. Look, there is still a mark there, but I have covered it with a beauty-spot. It is very hard to please her, for she is a very strange person : sometimes she does not want to be spoken to; and then again she prattles in church without stopping. She says that it is sinful to judge your neighbour, and yet she herself passes j udgment on all, and talks about everybody. She especially cannot bear young ladies, and she is always of the opinion that they never do as they ought to do. Sensible. I am glad to find out about her habits. This VOL. I. 18. 274 The Eighteenth Century knowledge will help me a great deal in the matter of Mr. Milksop's marriage. But, to tell the truth, it will be a hard thing for him to get along with such a woman: she will either drive him out of the house or into his grave. She demanded herself that I should come to Moscow to talk over her grandchild's marriage. So I took a leave of absence for twenty-nine days, and came down here from St. Petersburg. It is now three weeks that I have been here, and that I have attempted to see her, and she is all the time finding new excuses. My time will soon be up, and I shall have to return. What is it going to be to-day ? She has promised to give a decisive answer, though I do not yet see the beginning of it. Mdvra. Have a little patience, sir. Maybe you will be able to see her after vespers; before that time she does not like to receive guests. Sensible. But I have a great deal to talk to her about, so please tell her that I am here. Maybe she will let me in this time. Mdvra. No, sir, for nothing in the world will I report to her, for I shall be beaten, or at least roundly scolded. She grumbles at me as it is and calls me a heathen because I sometimes read the Monthly Essays, or Cleveland. Sensible. But you may tell her that I am very anxious to see her. Mdvra. As soon as vespers are over, I shall go to her, but not sooner. Yet, I do not advise you to stay longer than six o'clock. At that time she receives the visits of ladies like her who amuse her with bits of news that they have gathered in all the corners of the city. They talk about all their acquaintances, and malign them, and in their Christian love pass them over in review. They inform her of all the news of St. Petersburg, adding to them their own lying inven- tions: some say less, others more. No one in that assembly is responsible for the truth, that we do not care for, pro- vided all they have heard and have invented has been told. Sensible. Will she at least invite me to supper ? What do you think about that ? Catherine the Great 275 Mdvra. I doubt it. What suppers do you expect of fasters ? Sensible. What ? Do you fast out of stinginess ? To-day is not a fast-day. Mdvra. I did not mean exactly that, only, only we do not like extra guests. Sensible. Speak more openly with me, Mdvra, for you certainly must know your mistress. Tell me the truth. It seems to me that she is full of superstitions and hypocris} 7 , and that she is at that a mean woman. Mdvra. He who looks for virtues in long prayers and in external forms and observances will not leave my lady with- out praise. She strictly observes all holidays; goes every day to mass; always places a taper before the images on a holiday; never eats meat on a fast-day; wears woollen dresses, do not imagine that she does so from niggardli- ness, and despises all who do not follow her example. She cannot bear the customs of the day and luxury, but likes to boast of the past and of those days when she was fifteen years old, since when, the Lord be blessed! there have passed fifty years or more. Sensible. As regards external luxury, I myself do not like it, and I gladly agree with her in that, just as I respect the sincerity of ancient days. Praiseworthy, most praiseworthy is the ancient faithfulness of friendship, and the stern observ- ance of a promise, for fear that the non-observance of the same might redound to one's dishonour. In all that I am of the same opinion with her. It is a pity, a real pity, that now-a- days people are ashamed of nothing, and many young people no longer blush when they utter a lie or cheat their creditors, nor young women when they deceive their husbands. Mdvra. Let us leave that alone. In her dress and head- gear, you will find the representation of the fashion of her ancestors, and in this she discovers a certain virtue and purity of morals. Sensible. But why ancestral morals ? Those are nothing else but meaningless customs which she does not distinguish or cannot distinguish from morals. 276 The Eighteenth Century Mdvra. Yet, according to the opinion of my lady, the older a dress, the more venerable it is. Sensible. Tell me, then, what she does during the whole day. Mdvra. But how can I remember it all ? And then, I can hardly tell it all, for you will only laugh. Well, I do not care; I '11 tell you a little about it. She rises in the morning at six o'clock and, following a good old custom, gets out of bed bare-footed; then she fixes the lamp before the images; then reads her morning prayers and the Book of the Saints; then she combs her cat and picks the fleas off of her, and sings the verse : ' ' Blessed is he who is kind to the beasts ! ' ' During this singing she does not forget to think of us also: she favours one with a box on her ears, another with a beat- ing, and another with scolding and cursing. Then begins the morning mass, during which she alternately scolds the servant and mumbles prayers; she now sends the people that had been guilt}' of some transgression on the previous day to the stable to be beaten with rods, and now again she hands the censer to the priest ; now she scolds her grandchild for being so young, and now again she makes her obeisances as she counts the beads on the rosary ; now she passes in re- view the young men into whose hands she could rid herself of her grandchild without a dowry, and now . . . ah ! wait a minute, sir, I hear a noise, and it is time for me to get away from here. It is, no doubt, my lady, and I am afraid she might find us together: there is no telling what she might think of it. {Exit.) PRINCE KHLOR Before the times of Ki, Knyaz of Kiev, a Tsar lived in Russia, a good man who loved truth, and wished well to everybody. He often travelled through his dominions, that he might know how the people lived, and everywhere in- formed himself if they acted fairly. The Tsar had a Tsaritsa. The Tsar and the Tsaritsa lived harmoniously. The Tsaritsa travelled with the Tsar, and did not like to be absent from him. Catherine the Great 277 The Tsar and Tsaritsa arrived at a certain town built on a high hill in the middle of a wood, where a son was born to the Tsar; and they gave him the name Khlor. But in the midst of this joy, and of a three-days' festivity, the Tsar re- ceived the disagreeable intelligence that his neighbours do not live quietly, make inroads into his territories, and do many injuries to the inhabitants of the borders. The Tsar took the armies that were encamped in the neighbourhood, and went with his troops to protect the borders. The Tsar- itsa went with the Tsar; the TsareVich remained in the same town and house in which he was born. The Tsar appointed to him seven prudent matrons, well experienced in the education of children. The Tsar ordered the town to be fortified with a stone wall, having towers at the corners; but they placed no cannon on the towers, because in those days they had no cannon. The house in which the Tsarevich remained was built of Siberian marble and porphyry, and was very neat and conveniently laid out. Behind the palace were planted gardens with fruit trees, near which fish-ponds beautified the situation; summer-houses made in the taste of various nations, from which the view extended to the neighbouring fields and plains, added agreeableness to the dwelling. As the Tsarevich grew up, his female guardians began to remark that he was no less prudent and sprightly than handsome. The fame of the beauty, wisdom and fine ac- complishments of the Tsarevich was spread abroad on all sides. A certain Khan of the Kirgiz Tartars, wandering in the deserts with his kibitkas, ' heard of this and was anxious to see so extraordinary an infant ; and having seen him, he formed a wish to carry him away into the desert. He began by endeavouring to persuade the guardians to travel with the TsareVich and him into the desert. The matrons told him with all politeness that it was impossible to do this with- out the Tsar's permission; that they had not the honour of knowing my lord Khan, and that they never pay any visits 1 A sort of tents made of mats ; also a kind of covered waggon used for travelling in Russia. 278 The Eighteenth Century with the TsareVich to strangers. The Khau was not con- tented with this polite answer, and stuck to them closer than formerly, j ust like a hungry person to a piece of paste, and insisted that the nurses should go with the child into the desert. Having at last received a flat denial, he was con- vinced he could not succeed in his intentions by entreaties, and sent them a present. They returned him thanks, sent his present back, and ordered to tell him that they were in want of nothing. , The Khan, obstinate and fixed in his resolution, con- sidered what was to be done. It came into his head to dress himself in tattered clothes; and he sat down at the gate of the garden, as if he were a sick old man ; and he begged alms of the passengers. The Tsare" vich happened to take that day a walk in the garden ; and, observing that a certain old man sat at the gate, sent to ask who the old man was. They returned with answer that he was a sick beggar: Khlor, like a boy possessed of much curiosity, asked leave to look at the sick beggar. The matrons, to pacify Khlor, told him that there was nothing to be seen; and that he might send the beggar alms. Khlor wished to give the money himself, and ran off. The attendants ran after him ; but the faster they ran, the faster the child set out, and got without the gate. Having run up to the faint beggar, his foot catched a stone, and he fell upon his face. The beggar sprang up, took the child under his arm, and set a-running down the hill. A gilded rospuski (a kind of cart with four wheels) trimmed with velvet, stood there: he got on the rospuski, and galloped away with the Tsarevich into the desert. When the guardians had run up to the gate, they found neither beggar nor child ; nor did they see any traces of them. Indeed there was no road at the place where the Khan went down the hill. Sitting on the rospuski, he held the Tsarevich before him with one hand, like a chicken by the wing; and with the other he waved his cap round his head, and cried three times, " Hurrah!" On hearing his voice, the guardians ran to the slope of the hill, but it was too late : they could not overtake them. Catherine the Great 279 The Khan carried Khlor in safety to his camp, and went into his kibitka, where the grandees met the Khan. The Khan appointed to Khlor his best starshina. ' This starshind took him in his arms, and carried him into a richly orna- mented kibitka, covered with Chinese stuffs and Persian carpets. He set the child on a cushion of cloth, and tried to pacify him; but Khlor cried and repented he had run away from his guardians. He was continually asking whither they were carrying him, for what reason, to what purpose, and where he was. The starshiud and the Kirgiz that were with him told him many stories. One said that it was so ordained by the course of the stars; another that it was better living than at home. They told him all but the truth. Seeing that nothing could pacify him, they tried to frighten him with nonsense ; they told him they would turn him into a bat or a hawk, that they would give him to the wolf or frog to be eaten. The TsareVich was not fearful, and amid his tears laughed at such nonsense. The starshind, seeing that the child had left off crying, ordered the table to be covered. They covered the table and served the supper. The Tsarevich ate a little: they then presented preserves and such fruit as they had. After supper they undressed him and put him to sleep. Next morning before daybreak, the Khan gathered his grandees, and spoke to them as follows: " Let it be known unto you that I yesterday carried off the Tsare" vich Khlor, a child of uncommon beauty and prudence. I wish to know perfectly whether all is true that is said of him ; and I am determined to employ every means of trying his qualifica- tions." The grandees having heard the Khan's words bowed themselves to the girdle. The flatterers among them praised the Khan's conduct, that he had carried off a child, nay, the child of a neighbouring Tsar. The mean-spirited approved, saying: "Right lord Khan, our hope, whatever you do must be right." A few of them who really loved the Khan shook their heads, and when the Khan asked why they held their tongues, they told him frankly: " You have 1 An elder. 280 The Eighteenth Century done wrong in carrying off the son of a neighbouring Tsar; and you cannot escape misfortune, unless you compensate for this step." The Khan answered: "Just so, you are always discontented ! ' ' and passed by them. He ordered the Tsar6vich to be brought to him as soon as he should awake. The child, seeing that they wished to carry him, said: "Do not trouble yourselves, I can walk. I will go myself." Having come into the Khan's kibitka, he bowed to them all, first to the Khan, and then to the rest on the right and left. He then placed himself before the Khan with such a respectful, polite and prudent mien, that he filled all the Kirgiz and the Khan himself with wonder. The Khan, however, recollecting himself, spoke as follows: " TsareVich Khlor! They say of you that you are a wise child, pray seek me a flower, a rose without prickles that stings not. Your tutor will show you a wide field. I give you a term of three days." The child bowing again to the Khan said: " I hear," and went out of the kibitka to his home. In the way he met the Khan's daughter, who was married to the Sultan Bryuzga. 1 This man never laughed himself, and could not bear that another should smile. The Sultana, on the contrary, was of a sprightly temper and very agree- able. She, seeing Khlor, said to him: " Welcome, Khlor, how do you do ? Where are you going ? " The Tsarevich answered: " By order of your father the Khan, I am going to seek the rose without prickles that stings not." The Sul- tana Felitsa (that was her name) wondered that they should send a child to seek such a rarity, and, taking a sincere liking to the boy, she said to him : ' ' Tsare" vich, stay a little, I will go with you to seek the rose without prickles that stings not, if my father will give me leave." Khlor went into his kibitka to dine, for it was dinner-time, and the Sultana went to the Khan to ask leave to go with the Tsar6vich to seek the rose without prickles that stings not. He did not only not give her leave, but strictly forbade her to go with the child to seek the rose without prickles that stings not. 1 From a word meaning choleric. Catherine the Great 281 Felitsa, having left the Khan, persuaded her husband, Sultan Bryuzga, to stay with her father the Khan, and went herself to the Tsare" vich. He was very happy to see her, and begged her to sit down beside him, which she did, and said: " The Khan has forbid me to go with you, Tsarevich, to seek the rose without prickles that stings not; but I will give you good advice: pray do not forget, do you hear do not forget what I tell you." The TsareVich promised to remember. "At some distance from hence," continued she, " as you go to seek the rose without prickles that stings not, you will meet with people of very agreeable manners who will endeavour to persuade you to go with them. They will tell you a great many entertainments, and that they spend their time in innumerable pleasures. Do not believe them : they lie. Their pleasures are false, and attended with much weariness. After them you will see others who will still more earnestly press you on the same subject. Refuse them with firmness, and they will leave you. You will then get into a wood. There you will find flatterers who by agree- able conversation, and every other means, will endeavour to draw you out of your proper way. But do not forget that you have nothing to do but to seek one flower, a rose with- out prickles that stings not. I love you, and will send my son to meet you, who will help you to find the rose without prickles that stings not." Khlor, having heard the words of Felitsa, asked her : " Is it so difficult to find the rose without prickles that stings not?" " No," answered the Sultana, " it is not so very difficult to an upright person who perse- veres firmly in his intention. ' ' Khlor asked if ever anybody had found that flower. " I have seen," said Felitsa, " peas- ants and tradesmen who have as happily succeeded in this pursuit as nobles, kings or queens." The Sultana having said this, took leave of the Tsarevich. The starshina, his tutor, led him to seek the rose without prickles that stings not; and for this purpose let him out at a wicket into a large game park. On entering the park, Khlor saw a vast number of roads. Some were straight, some crooked, and some full of intricate 282 The Eighteenth Century windings. The child did not know which way to go, but on seeing a youth coming towards him, he made haste to meet him and ask who he was. The youth answered: "I am Razsudok (Reason), the son of Felitsa. My mother sent me to accompany you in your search for the rose without prickles that stings not." The TsareVich thanked Felitsa with heart and lips and, having taken the youth by the hand, informed himself of the way he should go. Razsudok said with a cheerful and assured look: " Fear naught, TsareVich, let us go on the straight road, where few walk though it is more agreeable than the others." " Why do not all keep the straight road ? " said the TsareVich. " Because," replied the youth, " they lose themselves and get bewildered in the others." In going along, the youth showed Khlor a very beautiful little path, and said: " Look, TsareVich! This is called the Path of the Nonage of Well-Disposed Souls. It is very pretty but very short." They pursued their way through a wood into an agreeable plain, through which ran a rivulet of clear water. On the banks they saw troops of young people. Some were sitting on the grass, and others were lying under the trees. As soon as they saw the TsareVich, they got up and came to him. One of them with great politeness and insinuation of manner addressed him. ' ' Give me leave, ' ' said he, ' ' to ask you, sir, where you are going? Did you come here by chance ? Can we have the pleasure of serving you in any- thing? Your appearance fills us with respect and friend- ship, and we are ravished with the number of your brilliant accomplishments." The TsareVich, recollecting the words of Felitsa, replied: " I have not the honour to know you, and you also are unacquainted with me. I therefore attrib- ute your compliments to your politeness, and not to my own merits. I am going to seek the rose without prickles that stings not." Another of the company joined the conversa- tion, and said: " Your intention is a proof of your talents. But oblige us so far as to favour us with your company a few days, and to take a share in the inimitable pleasures which Catherine the Great 283 we enjoy." Khlor told him that he was restricted to a time, and that he could not delay lest he should incur the Khan's displeasure. They endeavoured to persuade him that rest was necessary for his health, and that he could not find a place for this purpose more convenient, nor people more inclined to serve him. It is impossible to conceive how they begged and persuaded him. At length the men and women took each other by the hand, and formed a ring about Khlor and his conductor, and began to leap and dance, and hinder them from going farther; but while they were whirling themselves about, Razsudok snatched Khlor under his arm and ran out of the ring with such speed that the dancers could not catch hold of them. Having proceeded farther, they came to Lentydg ' Murza (the sluggard chief), the chief governor of the place, who was taking a walk with his household. He received Khlor and his conductor very civilly, and asked them into his lodging. As they were a little tired, they went in with him. He de- sired them to sit down on the divan, and laid himself by them on down pillows covered with old-fashioned cloth of gold. His domestic friends sat down round the walls of the chamber. lyentyag Murza then ordered pipes, tobacco and coffee to be served. Having understood that they did not smoke nor drink coffee, he ordered the carpets to be sprinkled with perfumes, and asked Khlor the reason for his excursion into the game park. The Tsarevich answered that by the order of the Khan he was in quest of the rose without prickles that stings not. lyentyag Murza was amazed that he could undertake such an arduous attempt at so early an age. Ad- dressing himself to Khlor: " Older than you," said he, "are scarce equal to such a busiftess. Rest a little, don't proceed farther. I have many people here who have endeavoured to find out this flower, but have all got tired and have de- serted the pursuit." One of them that were present then got up and said : " I myself more than once tried to find it, but I tired of it, and instead of it I have found my benefactor Murza, who supplies me with meat and drink." 1 From a word meaning indolent. 284 The Eighteenth Century In the midst of this conversation Lentyag Murza's head sunk into a pillow, and he fell asleep. As soon as those that were seated about the walls of the room heard that Lentyag Murza began to snore, they got up softly. Some of them went to dress themselves, some to sleep. Some took to idle conversation, and some to cards and dice. During these employments some flew into a passion, others were well pleased, and upon the faces of all were marked the various situations of their souls. When Lentyag Murza awoke, they again gathered around them, and a table covered with fruit was brought into the room. Twenty dg Murza remained among his pillows, and from thence asked the Tsarevich, who very earnestly observed all that passed, to eat. Khlor was just going to taste what was offered by Lentydg Murza, when his conductor pulled him gently by the sleeve, and a bunch of fine grapes which he had laid hold of fell out of his hand and was scattered upon the pavement. Recollecting himself immediately he got up, and they left Leutydg Murza. Not far from this they spied the house of a peasant, sur- rounded by several acres of well-cultivated ground, on which were growing several kinds of corn, as rye, oats, barley, buckwheat, etc. Some of this corn was ripening, and some only springing up. A little farther they saw a meadow on which horses, cows and sheep were grazing. They found the landlord with a watering-pan in his hand, with which he was watering the cucumbers and cabbage set by his wife. The children were employed in clearing away the useless weeds from among the garden stuffs. Razsuclok addressed them : ' ' God be with you, good people ! ' ' They answered ; " Thank you, young gentlemen," and they made a distant bow to the Tsar6vich as to a stranger ; but in a friendly man- ner they addressed Razsudok : " Be so kind as to go into our dwelling: your mother the Sultana loves us, visits us and does not neglect us." Razsudok consented and with Khlor went into the yard. In the middle of the yard there stood an old and lofty oak, under which was a broad and clean- scraped bench, with a table before it. The landlady and her daughter-in-law spread a table-cloth, and placed on the table Catherine the Great 285 a bowl of buttermilk, and another with poached eggs. They set down also a dish of hot pancakes, soft-boiled eggs, and in the middle a good bacon ham. They brought brown bread, and set down to everyone a can of sweet milk, and by way of dessert presented fresh cucumbers and cranberries with honey. The landlord pressed them to eat. The travellers, who were hungry, found everything excellent, and during supper talked with the landlord and landlady, who told them how healthily, happily and quietly they lived, and in all abund- ance suitable to their condition, passing their time in country work, and overcoming every want and difficulty by industry. After supper they spread on the same bench mats, and Razsudok and Khlor put their cloaks on the mats. The landlady gave to each a pillow with a clean pillow-slip; so they lay down, and being tired they soon fell asleep. In the morning they got up at daybreak, and having thanked their landlord, who would have nothing for their lodging, they pursued their journey. Having got about half a mile, they heard the sound of the bagpipe. Khlor wanted to go nearer, but Razsudok hinted that the bagpipe would lead them out of their way. Curiosity got the better of Khlor, and he went up to the bagpipe, but when he saw the mad pranks of disfigured drunkards staggering about the piper, he was terrified, and threw himself into the arms of Razsudok, who carried him back to the road. Having passed through a grove, they saw a steep hill. Razsudok told Khlor that the rose without prickles that stings not grew there. Khlor, oppressed with the heat of the sun, grew tired. He began to fret, said there was no end to that road, how far it is, and asked if they could not find a nearer way. Razsudok answered that he was carrying him the nearest way, and that difficulties are only to be overcome by patience. The TsareVich in ill-humour cried out, ' ' Perhaps I shall find the way myself ! ' ' waved his hand, doubled his pace, and separated himself from his guide. Razsudok remained behind and followed slowly in silence. The child entered a market town where there were few who 286 The Eighteenth Century took notice of him, for it was a market-day, and everybody was engaged in business in the market-place. The Tsarevich, wandering among carts and traders, began to cry. One per- son who did not know him passed by, and seeing him crying said to him: " Have done crying, you little whelp; without you we have noise enough here." At that very moment Razsudok had overtaken him. The TsareVich complained that they had called him whelp. Razsudok said not a word, but conducted him out of the crowd. When Khlor asked him why he did not talk with him as formerly, Razsudok answered : ' ' You did not ask my advice, but went to an im- proper place, and so don't be offended if you did not find the people to your mind." Razsudok wished to prolong his speech when they met a man, not overyoung, but of an agreeable appearance, surrounded with a great many boys. As Khlor was curious to know everything, he called one of the boys, and asked who the man was. " This man is our master," said the boy; "we have got our lesson and are going to take a walk, but pray where are you going ? " The TsareVich told him that they were seeking the rose without prickles that stings not. " I have heard," said the boy, " from our master an explanation of the rose without prickles that stings not. This flower signifies nothing more than virtue. Some people think to find it by going byways, but nobody can get it unless he follows the straight road; and happy is he that by an honest firmness can overcome all the difficulties of that road. You see before you that hill on which grows the rose without prickles that stings not; but the road is steep and full of rocks." Having said this, he took his leave and went after his master. Khlor and his guide went straight to the hill, and found a narrow and rocky track on which they walked with diffi- culty. They there met an old man and woman in white, both of a respectable appearance, who stretched out their staffs to them and said : ' ' Support yourselves on our staffs and you will not stumble." The people thereabouts told them that the name of the first was Honesty, and of the other Truth. Mikhaylo Mikhaylovich Shcherbatov 287 Having got to the foot of the hill, leaning on the staffs, they were obliged to scramble from the track by the branches, and so from branch to branch they got at length to the top of the hill, where they found the rose without prickles that stings not. He made haste to the Khan with the flower, and the Khan dismissed him to the Tsar. The Tsar was so well pleased with the arrival of the Tsarevich and his success that he forgot all his anxiety and grief. The Tsar, the Tsaritsa and all the people became daily more fond of the TsareVich, because he daily advanced in virtue. Here the tale ends, and who knows better, let him tell another. Prince Mikhaylo Mikhaylovich Shcherbatov. (1733-1790.) Prince Shcherbdtov derived his origin from St. Vladimir, and united in his person a love of the ancient order of things and the preroga- tives of the nobility with a refined liberalism, the result of an educa- tion according to Western ideas. In the sixties, Catherine II. entrusted Prince Shcherbatov with the arrangement of the archives of Peter the Great, and the result of his labours in this direction was the publica- tion of a number of chronicles and documents referring to various periods of Russian history. Then he wrote a History of Russia from the most ancient times to the election of Mikhail Fe6dorovich, in seven volumes. Though not distinguished for elegance of style, it deserves especial mention as the first native history in which not only native sources were thoroughly ransacked, but the facts were properly co-ordinated in a philosophical system. His sympathies for the old regime led him to emphasise the dark side of the period following the reform of Peter the Great, and he elaborated his theory in a work On the Corruption of Manners in Russia, which was so bold in laying bare the immorality of the Court at his time that he did not dare to publish it. It first saw the light in London in 1858, where it was issued by Herzen. In another work, Journey to the Land of Ophir, by Mr. S., a Swedish Nobleman, he developed his ideas of what a monarchy ought to be, in the manner of Sir Thomas More's Utopia. This work was first published a few years ago. ON THE CORRUPTION OF MANNERS IN RUSSIA Ancient families were no longer respected, but "chins" and deserts and long service. Everybody was anxious to 288 The Eighteenth Century get some " chin," and as it is not given to everybody to dis- tinguish himself through some meritorious act, many tried through flattery and subserviency to the Emperor and the dignitaries to gain that which merit gave to others. By the regulations of the military service, which Peter the Great had newly introduced, the peasants began with their masters at the same stage as soldiers of the rank and file : it was not uncommon for the peasants, by the law of seniority, to reach the grade of officer long before their masters, whom, as their inferiors, they frequently beat with sticks. Noble families were so scattered in the service that often one did not come again in contact with his relatives during his whole lifetime. How could there remain any manliness and firmness in those who in their youth trembled before the rod of their superiors ; who could not obtain any honours except by ser- vility ; and who, being left without the active support of their relatives, without union and protection, were left alone, at any time liable to fall into the hands of the mighty ? I must praise Peter the Great for his attempts to eradicate superstition in the observances of the divine Law, for indeed superstition is not a worship of God and the Law, but rather a desecration; to ascribe to God improper acts is nothing but blasphemy. In Russia they regarded the beard as a physical attribute of God, for which reason they thought it a sin to shave it off, thus falling into the heresy of anthropomorphism. They proclaimed everywhere miracles, needlessly performed, and holy images, whose properties were rarely attested ; they en- couraged superstitious worship, and increased the revenues of corrupt servants of the Lord. All that Peter the Great endeavoured to abolish: he promulgated ukases for the shaving off of beards, and by means of the Spiritual Regie- ment put a stop to false miracles and visions, as well as im- proper gatherings near the holy images on the crossroads. Being convinced that the divine Law demands the preserva- tion of the human race, and not its uncalled-for destruction, he by a decision of the Synod and all the Patriarchs granted a dispensation to eat meat during the fast, in case of neces- Mikhaylo Mikhaylovich Shcherbatov 289 sity, particularly in the service on the seas, where people are subject to scurvy; he ordered that those who, by such abstin- ence, of their own free will sacrificed their lives and became subject to diseases resulting therefrom, should be cast into the water. All that is very good, only the latter thing is a little too severe. But when did he enact that ? When the people were not yet enlightened, and by thus abating the superstition of the unenlightened, he at the same time deprived them of their faith in the divine I/aw. This act of Peter the Great is to be likened to the act of the unskilled gardener who lops the watery branches of a weak tree, that absorb its sap. If the tree were well rooted, this lopping would cause it to bring forth good and fruitful branches; but, being weak and sickly, the cutting off of the branches that imbibed the external moisture through its leaves and fed the weak tree causes no healthy and abundant growth of new branches, nor does the wound heal up, but there are formed cavities that threaten the destruction of the tree. Similarly the lopping off of the superstitions has been injurious to the fundamental parts of faith itself: superstition has decreased, but so has also faith ; there has disappeared the slavish terror of hell, but also the love of God and His divine Law; and the manners that were formerly corrected by faith have lost this corrective and, lacking any other enlightenment, soon began to be cor- rupted. With all the reverence that I have in my heart for this great monarch and great man, with all my conviction that the weal of the Empire demanded that he should have other legitimate children than Alexis Petrovich as heirs of his throne, I cannot but censure his divorce from his first wife, ne'e Lopukhin, and his second marriage to the captive Catherine Aleksyeevna, after his first wife had been sent to a monastery. This example of the debasement of the sacred mystery of marriage has shown that these bonds may be broken without fear of punishment. Granted that the monarch had sufficient cause for his action, though I do no see it, except her leaning for the Mouses, and opposition to VOL. l.ig. 290 The Eighteenth Century his new regulations; but what reasons of State led his imi- tators to do likewise ? Did Paul Ivdnovich Egtizinski, who sent his first wife into a monastery and married another, ne Gal6vkin, have any reasons of State for getting heirs by breaking the divine Laws ? Not only many high digni- taries, but those of lower ranks, like Prince Boris S6ntsev- Zasye"kin, have also imitated him. Although Russia, through the labours and care of this Emperor, has become known to Europe and has now weight in affairs, and her armies are properly organised, and her fleets have covered the White and Baltic seas, so that she > has been able to conquer her old enemies and former victors, the Poles and Swedes, and has gained fine districts and good harbours; although the sciences, arts and industries began to flourish in Russia, and commerce to enrich her, and the Russians were transformed from bearded men into clean- shaven ones, and exchanged their long cloaks for short coats, and became more sociable and accustomed to refinement; yet at the same time the true attachment to the faith began to disappear, the mysteries fell into disrepute, firmness was weakened and gave way to impudent, insinuating flattery; luxury and voluptuousness laid the foundation for their domination, and with it selfishness began to penetrate the high judicial places, to the destruction of the laws and the detriment of the citizens. Such is the condition of morals in which Russia was left after the death of the great Emperor, in spite of all his attempts, in his own person and through his example, to ward off the encroachment of vice. Now let us see what progress vice has made during the reign of Catherine I. and Peter II., and how it has estab- lished itself in Russia. The feminine sex is generally more prone to luxury than the male, and so we see the Empress Catherine I. having her own court even during the life of her husband, Peter the Great. Her chamberlain was Mons, whose unbounded lux- ury was his first quality that brought him to a shameful death; her pages were Peter and Jacob Fedorovich Balk6v, his nephews, who during his misfortune were driven from Mikhaylo Mikhaylovich Shcherbatov 291 the Court. She was exceedingly fond of ornaments, and carried her vanity to such an excess that other women were not permitted to wear similar ornaments, as, for example, to wear diamonds on both sides of the head, but only on the left side; no one was allowed to wear ermine furs with the tails, which she wore, and this custom, which was confirmed by no ukase or statute, became almost a law; this adornment was appropriated to the Imperial family, though in Germany it is also worn by the wives of burghers. Does not this vanity seem to indicate that when her age began to impair her beauty, she was trying to enhance it by distinctive adornments ? I do not know whether this opinion was just, and whether it was proper for the Emperor to appear every hour of the day before his subjects in a masquerade dress, as if he lacked other distinguishing adornments. Vasili Petr6vich Petr6v. (1736-1799.) Petr6v was the son of a poor clergyman. He studied in the Theo- logical Academy at Moscow, where he was made a teacher in 1760. Through Pote'mkin, his friend, he was presented to the Empress, who, in 1768, appointed him her private translator and reader. In 1772 he was sent to England, where he soon acquired the language. In Lon- don he translated Milton's Paradise Lost and made a careful study of Addison, especially of his Cato. Petr6v wrote a large number of adulatory odes, now long forgotten ; he showed more talent in his satires, which he wrote in England, and in which the influence of the English writers whom he studied may be perceived. The following ode, probably his best, is from Sir John Bowring's Specimens of the Russian Poets, Part II. ON THE VICTORY OF THE RUSSIAN OVER THE TURKISH FLEET 1 O triumph! O delight! O time so rich in fame Unclouded, bright and pure as the sun's midday flame! Ruthenia's strength goes forth see from the sea emerge The Typhons of the north ! The lightning, in its might, Flashes in dazzling light, And subject is the surge. 1 At Chesma, where, on July 26, 1770, the Turkish fleet was destroyed. 292 The Eighteenth Century They wander o'er the waves, their eye impatiently Seeks where the Moslem's flag flaunts proudly o'er the sea: " 'T is there! 'T is there! " exclaim the brave, impatient crowd, The sails unfurled, each soul with rage and courage burns, Each to the combat turns: They meet, it thunders loud! I see from Etna's rocks a floating army throng: A hero, 1 yet unsung, wafts the proud choir along, The masts, a fir-tree wood, the sails, like outspread wings. List to the shoutings ! See the flash ! They thunder near. Earthquakes and night are there, With storm the welkin rings. There January speeds, there Svyatosldv moves on, And waves and smoke alike are in the tempest thrown ; And there the ship that bears the three-times hallowed* name, And Rostislav and Europe, there triumphant ride; While the agitated tide Is startled with the flame. Evstdf, in fire concealed, scatters the deathlike brand, And earth and heaven are moved, and tremble sea and land; And there, a mountain pile, sends round the deeds of death, As if Vesuvius' self in combat were engaged, While other mountains raged, And poured their flaming breath. The roar, the whiz, the hum, in one commingling sound, The clouds of smoke that rise, and spread and roll around; The waves attack the sky in wild and frenzied dance ; The sails are white as snow; and now the sun looks on, Now shrouds him on his throne, And the swift lightnings glance. 1 Count Orl6v, commander of the fleet. ' Ship named The Three Saints. Vasili Petr6vich Petr6v 293 Hard proof of valour this, the spirit's fiery test: Fierce combat, grown more fierce, bear high the burning breast ! See on the waves there ride two mountains, fiery-bound, ./Etna and Hecla, loose on ocean's heaving bed, The burning torches spread, And ruin stalks around. Ocean, and shore, and air, rush backward at the sight, The Greek and Turk stand still, and groan in wild affright; Calm as a rock the Russ is welcoming death with death; But ah ! destruction now blazes its fiery links, And even victory sinks Its heavy weight beneath. O frightful tragedy ! A furnace is the sea, The triumph ours, the flames have reached the enemy: He burns, he dies in smoke, beneath the struggle rude The Northern heroes sink, with weariness oppressed, And ask a moment's rest, As if they were subdued. And whence that threatening cloud that hangs upon their head? That threatens now to burst ? What ? Is their leader dead ? And is he borne away, who all our bosoms warmed ? He fell, there lies his sword, there lie his shield and helm. What sorrows overwhelm The conqueror disarmed ! Oh, no! He wakes again from night, he waves his hand, Beckoning to the brave ranks that mourning round him stand: " My brother! " cried he " Heaven! And is my brother gone? Their sails unfurl ! My friends, oh, see ! oh, see ! They fly, On, ' Death or vengeance! ' cry, On, on to Stamboul's throne! " 294 The Eighteenth Century He fled. O hero! Peace! There is no cause for grief, He lives, thy brother lives, and Spirid6v, his chief! No dolphin saved them there, it was the Almighty God, The God who sees thy deed, thy valour who approves, And tries the men He loves With His afflictive rod. The dreadful dream is passed, passed like a mist away, And dawns, serene and bright, a cloudless victory day : The trump of shadeless joy, the trump of triumph speaks; The hero and his friend are met, and fled their fears; They kiss each other's cheeks, They water them with tears. They cried, "And is our fame, and is our glory stained ? God is our shield, revenge and victory shall be gained! We live, and Mahmud's might a hundred times shall fall; We live, the astonished world our hero-deeds shall see, And every victory A burning fleet recall." Whence this unusual glare o'er midnight's ocean spread ? At what unwonted hour has Phoebus left his bed ? No, they are Russian crowds who struggle with the foe, 'T is their accordant torch that flashes through the night. Sequana, see the might Of Stamboul sink below ! The harbour teems with life, an amphitheatre Of sulphurous pitch and smoke, and awful noises there. The fiends of hell are loose, the sea has oped its caves, Fate rides upon the deep, and laughs amidst the fray, Which feeds with human prey The monsters of the waves. See, like a furnace boils and steams the burning flood, 'T is filled with mortal flesh, 't is red with mortal blood; Vasili Petr6vich Petr6v 295 Devoured by raging flames, drunk by the thirsty wave, The clouds seem palpable, a thick and solid mass, They sink like stone or brass Into their water-grave. Thou ruler of the tomb ! Dread hour of suffering, When all the elements, drop, Muse, thy feeble wing! Hell, with its fiends, and all the fiends that man e'er drew There mingled, Silence, veil that awful memory o'er! I see the hero pour The tears of pity too ! O Peter! Great in song, as great in glory once, L,ook from thy throne sublime upon thy Russia's sons! See, how thy fleets have won the palm of victory, And hear the triumph sound, even to the gate of heaven, The Turkish strength is riven Even in the Turkish sea. Thee Copenhagen saw, the Neptune of the Belt; Now Chesma's humbled sons before thy flag have knelt. The helpless Greeks have fled, thy banner sees their shore, Trembling they look around, while thy dread thunder swells, And shakes the Dardanelles, And Smyrna hears its roar. Ye Frenchmen ! ' Fear ye not the now advancing flame, Recording, as it flies, your own, your country's shame ? In the dark days of old, your valiant fathers trod In the brave steps of Rome, towards lands of Southern glow; Ye fight with Russians now, Beneath the Moslems' rod. Where innocence is found, there, there protection wakes; Where Catherine's voice is heard, there truth, there justice speaks: 1 An agent of the French Government had fortified the Dardanelles. 296 The Eighteenth Century A ruler's virtues are the strength and pride of states, And surely ours shall bloom where Catherine's virtues stand. O enviable land ! Glory is at our gates. Soar, eagle, soar again, spring upward to the flight ! For yet the Turkish flag is flaunting in the light : In Chesma's port it still erects its insolent head, And ihou must pour again thy foes' blood o'er the sea, And crush their treachery, And wide destruction spread ! But fame now summons thee from death to life again, The people's comfort now, their glory to maintain ; The hero's palm is won. Now turn thee and enhance The hero's triumphs with the patriot's milder fame. O Romans! Without shame On Duil's spoils we glance. We '11 consecrate to thee a towering marble dome! From yonder Southern sea, oh, bring thy trophies home, Bring Scio's trophies home, those trophies still shall be Thy glory, Orl6v! Thine the records of thy deeds, When future valour reads Astrea's victory ! Oh, could my wakened Muse a worthy offering bring! Oh, could my grateful lyre a song of glory sing! Oh, could I steal from thee the high and towering thought, With thy proud name the world, the listening world I 'd fill! And Camoens' harp be still, And Gama be forgot ! Thine was a nobler far than Jason's enterprise, Whose name shines like a star in history's glorious skies: He bore in triumph home the rich, the golden fleece; But with thy valour thou, and with thy conquering band, Hast saved thy fatherland, And given to Hellas peace. Vasili Petr6vich Petr6v 297 But oh ! My tongue is weak to celebrate thy glory, Thy valiant deeds shall live in everlasting story, For public gratitude thy name will e'er enshrine, Who loves his country, who his Empress loves, will throw His garland on thy brow, And watch that fame of thine. But when thou humbledst low the Moslem's pride and scorn, And bad'st her crescent sink, her vain and feeble horn, And pass'dst the Belt again, with songs and hymns of joy, Who that perceived thy flag, in all its mightiness, What Russian could repress The tears that dimmed his eye ? I see the people rush to welcome thee again, Thy ships, with trophies deep, upon the swelling main; I see the maidens haste, the aged and the young; The children wave their hands, and to their father turn, And thousand questions burn On their inquiring tongue. 1 ' Is this the eagle proud of whom we have been told, Who led against the Turks the Russian heroes bold, And with their warriors' blood the azure ocean dyed ? Is this our Orlov, this with eagle's heart and name, His foe's reproach and shame, And Russia's strength and pride ? " Oh, yes! Oh, yes, 't is he! The eagle there appears, And ocean bears him on, as proud of him she bears: And see his brother too, who led to victory, there And Spirfdov, whose praise all ages shall renew, And Greyg and Ilin too, The heroes, without fear. But wherefore do I rest, what fancies led me on ? The glorious eagle now to Asia's coast is flown, 298 The Eighteenth Century O'er streams, and hills, and vales, he takes his course sub- lime, My eye in vain pursues his all-subduing flight. O vision of delight! O victory-girded time ! And heaven, and earth, and sea have seen our victories won, And echo with the deeds that Catherine has done ; The Baltic coasts in vain oppose the march of Paul, Not the vast North alone, but all th' .flSgean Sea Shall own his sovereignty, And the whole earthly ball ! Mikhail Matvyfcevich Kheraskov. (1733-1807.) The son of a Wallachian emigrant, Kheraskov served in succession in the army, the Kommerz-Kolleg (Ministry of Finances) and the Moscow University, where he was first Director and later Curator. He began to write early, and for half a century produced a very large number of poems in every imaginable field of the pseudo-classic school. They now appall us with their inane voluminousness, but in his day he was regarded as a great poet, a veritable Russian Homer. His best heroic epics are his Rossiad and Vladimir Regenerated. The first, containing some ten thousand verses, celebrates the con- quest of Kazan by Ivan the Terrible ; the second, of even more im- posing length, tells of the introduction of Christianity into Russia. Though containing some fine passages, these epics reveal too much the influence of Vergil and Tasso, and make rather dreary reading. FROM THE "ROSSI AD" I sing Russia delivered from the barbarians, the trampled power of the Tartars, and their pride subdued, the stir of ancient mights, their labours, bloody strife, Russia's victory, Kazan destroyed ! How from the circle of those times, the beginning of peaceful years, a bright dawn has shone forth in Russia! Oh, thou gleamest above the radiant stars, spirit of poetry ! Come from thy heights, and shed over my weak and dim creation thy light, thy art and illumination! Open, O eternity, to me the gates of those habitations where all Mikhail Matvyeevich Kheraskov 299 earthly care is cast away, where the souls of the righteous receive their rewards, where fame and crowns are deemed a vanity, where before the star-sprinkled altar the lowest slave stands in a row with a king, where the poor man for- gets his misery, the unfortunate his grief, where every man will be equal to every other. Kternity, reveal thyself to me, that with my lyre I may attract the attention of the nations and their kings! In the grottoes within the Caucasian icy mountains, which the bold glance of mortal has never spied, where the frost creates an eternal translucent vault and dulls the fall of the sun's rays, where lightning is dead, where thunder is fet- tered, there stands, cut into ice, a mighty mansion. There are the storms, there are the cold, blizzards, tempests ; there Winter reigns, devouring years. This austere sister of other days, though hoary, is swift and agile. Rival of Spring, Autumn and Summer, she is clad in the purple woven of snow; stark-frozen steam serves her as veil. Her throne has the form of a diamond mountain. Great pillars, of ice constructed, cast a silvery sheen, illumined by the sun; over the heavenly vault glides the solar splendour, and then it seems a mass of ice is on fire. The elements have no motion : the air dares not move, nor the fire glow. There are no coloured fields; among the fields of ice gleam only frozen flowery vapours ; the waters in the heavens, melted by the rays, hang, petrified, in wavy layers; there in the air you may discern the words of prophecy, but all is stark, and nature dead. Only tremor, chill and frost have life; hoar frosts move about, while zephyrs grow dumb; snowstorms whirl about in flight, frosts reign in the place of summer luxury. There the ice represents the ruins of cities, one look at which congeals your blood. Pressed by the frosts, the snows there form silvery mounds and fields of diamonds. From there Winter spreads her dominion over us, devouring the grass in the fields, the flowers in the vales, and sucking up the living sap of trees, and on cold pinions bears frosts to us, driving 3oo The Eighteenth Century day away, prolonging gloomy nights, and compelling the sun to turn aside his beaming eyes: with trembling, forests and rivers await her, and chills weave her shrouds from the white billows. Plat6n (in civil life Peter Ge6rgevich) Levshin. (1737-1812.) What Feofan Prokop6vich had been to the reign of Peter the Great, Platen was to Catherine II. After having studied in the Moscow Theological Academy, where he became a teacher even before ending his course, he took the tonsure at twenty-two ; at twenty-five he was made rector of the Seminary. In the same year be attracted Cather- ine's attention by an eloquent speech On the Usefulness of Piety, and he was at once called to St. Petersburg to be her son's spiritual teacher (see p. 326). Plat6n rose rapidly, and in 1787 he was made metropolitan of Moscow. His liberal and enlightened views on theology were valued not only at home, but his Brief Theology, originally published in 1755, has been translated into most European languages, and three times into English. A Russian source informs us that his book on theology was made a text-book at Oxford and Cambridge. Several Englishmen who had visited him, and Dr. Stan- ley, spoke in the highest terms of this Russian divine. The translation of his Brief Theology in English bears the follow- ing titles : The Present Stale of the Creek Church in Russia ; or, A Summary of Christian Divinity, by Platon, Late Metropolitan of Moscow, translated from the Slavonian ... by Robert Pinkerton, Edinburgh, 1814, and New York, 1815 ; The Orthodox Doctrine of the Apostolic Eastern Church; or, A Compendium of Christian Theology, translated from the Greek ... to which is appended a Treatise on Melchisedec, Ix>ndon, Manchester [printed], 1857; Karijx^fi The Great Catechism of the Holy Catholic Apostolic and Orthodox Church, translated from the Greek by J. T. S., London, 1867. A Ser- mon preached by order of Her Imperial Majesty, on the Tomb of Peter the Great, in the Cathedral Church of St. Petersburg, London, 1770. WHAT ARE IDOLATERS? The second commandment forbiddeth idolatry, and every unlawful mode of worshipping God. At one time, almost all nations were in such a state of error (and even now there are many in the same situation), Plat6n Levshin 301 that they worshipped the creatures as gods, such as the sun, the moon, fire, also the lower animals, as bulls, cats, croco- diles; and some even worshipped herbs, such as onion and garlic ; and to all these they offered sacrifices, and paid other divine honours, or they made statues in the likeness of men and other animals, and bowed down before them as if they were divinities. But from these shocking and awful errors, the grace of Jesus Christ has delivered us (i Peter iv. 3). Such persons also resemble those idolaters as labour for Mammon and their belly; that is, whose thoughts are all taken up about amassing riches, which they either do not make use of, or only sacrifice to their fleshly lusts. With such people, Mammon and the belly are the idols, to whom they devote all their services; and on this account the Holy Scriptures call the love of riches, idolatry (Col. iii. 5); and those also idolaters who make their belly their God (Phil, iii. 19). This commandment also forbids the use of all unlawful means in the worship of God; that is, when anyone thinks of pleasing God by that which is not acceptable to Him, and which is not commanded in His Word. Such, for instance, were those Israelites who presented to God costly sacrifices while they led ungodly lives. And therefore God, through His prophet Isaiah, declared sacrifices presented from such hands to be hateful in His eyes; that is, their oblations were vain, their incense was an abomination and their fatted calves like dogs in His sight (chap. i. n). Those persons consequently transgress against this commandment : i. Who offer hypocritical worship. Who utter long pray- ers, which of itself is pious, but suppose that they shall be heard for their much speaking, though at the same time they feel no contrition of spirit. Of a similar character, also, are those hypocrites who on every occasion show themselves zealous for the name of God, zealous for the faith, the glory and the interests of the Church, and who introduce all their speeches with spiritual observations (which in themselves are praiseworthy), but who with all this have nothing in 302 The Eighteenth Century view but the indulgence of a spirit of ostentation, or promot- ing their own interest in all that they do, and whose zeal consists only in words with which their conduct does not in the least agree. 2. Hypocritical observances of the fasts. Who fast, that is, abstain from certain kind of food, and on that account hope for divine acceptance, though at the same time they live in every kind of iniquity. By them the real fast, which does not consist merely in abstinence from food, but in re- straining the corrupt passions, is evil spoken of. Such, also, are those who adorn the churches, or cover the pictures of the saints with gold and silver, yet at the same time oppress the innocent, who are the Church of the living God, or leave the poor without food. It is in vain, however, for them to declare that they have done all that they should have done in order to be saved; for, according to the words of Christ ' ' these ought they to have done, and not to leave the other undone" (Matt, xxiii. 23). 3. The superstitious. Who invent certain miraculous kinds of appearances, for the sake of filthy lucre, or from some sort of extravagant ideas about the salvation of their souls, or who attach an unknown kind of sanctity to some particular places, believing that God will hear prayers sooner in one place than in another. In a word, all those who transgress against this commandment, who, according to the testimony of Christ, place their hope of salvation in externals, and "omit the weightier matters of law, judg- ment, mercy and faith." Therefore, respecting such charac- ters, divine truth declares " This people draweth nigh unto me with their mouth, and honoureth me with their lips; but their heart is far from me. But in vain they do worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men" (Matt. xv. 8, 9). Reverencing the pictures is not contrary to this command- ment. We do not act contrary to this commandment, when, ac- cording to the ancient custom of Christians, we adorn our Plat6n Levshin 303 temples with the holy pictures. For, in the first place, we do not attempt to draw upon the canvas a representation of the unseen and incomprehensible God, whom we never can represent ; but we represent our Saviour in the fashion of a man which He took upon Himself, or His favourites. Second- ly, the pictures are made and placed in our churches, not for deification, but to commemorate the acts of God and of His chosen servants, that we, in beholding them (as, for in- stance, in looking on the picture of our crucified Saviour), may stir up our soul to piety and to the imitation of them in many acts of their lives. Thirdly, the obeisance which we make before the pictures we do not render to the pictures themselves, that is, to the boards, colours, ornaments or skill of the artist, but we render this to the person whom they represent, and to the pictures only an affectionate salutation. Thus, for example, I bow before the picture of my Saviour, but the devotion of my spirit, my faith, sup- plication and hope, and the obeisance which I pay, are all rendered to my Saviour alone, who is in heaven, and every- where present, and the picture is only a kind of sensible incitement of my devotion. Moreover, it is necessary to be known that the obeisance performed before the picture of our Saviour, and that before the picture of any of the saints, though to appearances the same, yet in reality are very dif- ferent indeed. For the worship which I perform before the picture of the Saviour consists in the deepest humility of soul before Him as Lord and Creator of all ; but that which I perform before the pictures of the saints is a reverence which I render to them out of a loving heart as His favourites, and as of the same nature, and of the same Church, and members of the same body with myself. Of such as err in reverencing the pictures. But notwithstanding all that has been said, this lawful and holy reverencing of the pictures may be turned into the most abominable sin of idolatry. This is the case when any- one hopes in, or attaches all his respect to the holy pictures, and trusts in their material substance ; when, for instance, 304 The Eighteenth Century anyone finds greater sanctity in one picture than in another, or places in them any hope of salvation. They, too, are chargeable with this guilt who bring their own particular picture into the church along with them, and only worship before it, or who respect those pictures more which are adorned than the unadorned, the old more than the new, or decline praying at all when they have not a picture before them. All these, and such like, are great transgressors, and prove a great disgrace to the real profession of the Christian faith. In order to avoid the above-named errors, it is necessary to remember, ist, That the worship of God can never be sincere, unless it proceed from a contrite and unfeigned spirit. For all external rites of worship are only marks testifying our internal piety and sincerity towards God, without which they signify nothing. And therefore the gospel requires that the worshippers of God should worship Him in spirit (not externally alone), and in truth, or not in hypocrisy. 2d, We must hold to the divine Word alone, and rest assured that it only contains the true rules by which we ought to please God. And therefore Christ said concerning the Holy Scriptures that in them is contained eternal life. From The Present State of the Greek Church in Russia, translated by R. Pinkerton. FROM THE ADDRESS UPON THE ACCESSION OF ALEXANDER I. Thus has the Lord granted to us the privilege of seeing our Emperor crowned and exalted above men. But we, sons of Russia, what is our part in this solemnity ? Do not our thanksgivings resound in gratitude to the King of kings for the grace He has bestowed on our monarch and upon us ? Yes, they resound with heartfelt fervour, warmed with hopes of a future reign of national glory and happiness! . . . This crown, Sire, on your head, is a pledge to us of honour, fame and renown, but imposes upon you duties and labours which can only cease with your life; this sceptre in your Plat6n Levshin 305 right hand, a guarantee to us of repose, demands of you in- cessant vigilance for our protection ; this emblem of empire in your left hand, a promise to us of security, exacts of you little but anxiety and care; this purple, for us a shield and defence from our enemies, challenges you to war and con- tests; finally, this whole Imperial attire, to us a source of consolation and confidence, is for you a burden wrought with danger and toil yes, a burden and a labour. For see, to your eyes there will appear an empire the largest upon which the sun has ever shone; from your wisdom it looks for the harmonious connection of its parts, the regulation of the whole. You will see flocking to your feet widows, orphans, the most destitute, the victims of the abuse of power, of favour, of corruption and of crime. . . . But, alas ! that near the angels of light the eye should dis- cover the fiendish spirits of darkness. Flattery, calumny and cunning, with all their wretched brood, will surround your throne, and foolishly imagine that their hypocrisy will beguile you. Bribery and partiality will raise their glossy heads and labour to lower the scale of justice. L,uxury, adorned with every voluptuous charm, presents the intoxicat- ing draughts of perilous joys to lead astray from the path of virtue the pure spirit, and engulf it in the slough of in- dolence and sensuality. Besieged by this riotous band, you will undoubtedly turn to truth, justice, wisdom and religion, and, united with you, they will raise their voice to God that He may rise again in you, and scatter your enemies. Monarch of Russia ! This struggle awaits you. For this contest gird on your sword ! Draw it with valour, young hero! Fight, conquer and govern! The omnipotent arm of the Almighty will wonderfully protect you. We say rightly " wonderfully " ; for here not to fall, here to conquer, here to maintain order and peace, truly! for this is more than human strength required; and, though the decree of the Eternal Being has appointed for you an exalted rank among men, you are nevertheless a man like any of us. Given in Grahame's The Progress of Science, Art and Liter- ature in Russia. VOL. I. 2O. 306 The Eighteenth Century Ivn Ivanovich Khemnitser. (1745-1784.) Khe"mnitser was the son of a German physician who had emigrated to Russia. At thirteen years of age he left his home and entered military service, which he left in 1769 as a lieutenant ; he then served in the Department of Mines, and died in Smyrna, where he was Russian consul. Khemnitser translated La Fontaine's and Gellert's fables, but two-thirds of all the fables he wrote are his own. He forms the transitional stage between Sumar6kov and Kryl6v, and is distinguished for extreme simplicity of language and a certain elegiac tone. Sir John Bowring has translated his The House-Builder, The Kick and the Poor Man, The Lion's Council of State, and The Waggons. Sutherland Edwards, in his The Russians at Home, gives a version of The Metaphysician, which is also reprinted in F. R. Grahame's The Progress of Science, Art and Literature in Russia. THE LION'S COUNCIL OF STATE A lion held a court for state affairs: Why ? That is not your business, sir, 'twas theirs! He called the elephants for counsellors still The council-board was incomplete; And the king deemed it fit With asses all the vacancies to fill. Heaven help the state for lo ! the bench of asses The bench of elephants by far surpasses. He was a fool, the foresaid king, you '11 say: Better have kept those places vacant surely, Than fill them up so poorly. O no! that 's not the royal way; Things have been done for ages thus, and we Have a deep reverence for antiquity : Naught worse, sir, than to be, or to appear Wiser and better than our fathers were. The list must be complete, even though you make it Complete with asses; for the lion saw Such had for ages been the law, He was no radical to break it! Iv&n Iv^novich Khemnitser 307 " Besides," he said, " my elephants' good sense Will soon my asses' ignorance diminish, For wisdom has a mighty influence." They made a pretty finish ! The asses' folly soon obtained the sway: The elephants became as dull as they ! From Sir John Bowring's Specimens of the Russian Poets, Part I. THE METAPHYSICIAN A father had heard that children were sent beyond the sea to study, and that those who had been abroad are invariably preferred to those who had never been there, and that such people are respected as being possessed of wisdom. Seeing this, he decided to send his son also beyond the sea, for he was rich and did not wish to fall behind the others. His son learned something, but, being stupid, returned more stupid yet. He had fallen into the hands of scholastic prevaricators who more than once have deprived people of their senses by giving explanations of inexplicable things; they taught him no whit, and sent him home a fool forever. Formerly he used to utter simply stupid things, but now he gave them a scientific turn. Formerly fools only could not understand him, but now even wise men could not grasp him : his home, the city, the whole world, was tired of his chattering. Once, raving in a metaphysical meditation over an old proposition to find the first cause of all things, while he was soaring in the clouds in thought, he walked off the road and fell into a ditch. His father, who happened to be with him, hastened to bring a rope, in order to save the precious wisdom of his house. In the meantime his wise offspring sat in the ditch and meditated: " What can be the cause of my fall ? The cause of my stumbling," the wiseacre con- cluded, " is an earthquake. And the precipitous tendency towards the ditch may have been produced by an aerial pressure, and a coactive interrelation of the seven planets and the earth and ditch." 3o8 The Eighteenth Century His father arrived with the rope: " Here," he said, " is a rope for you! Take hold of it, and I will pull you out. Hold on to it and do not let it slip! " " No, don't pull yet: tell me first what kind of a thing is a rope ? " His father was not a learned man, but he had his wits about him, so, leaving his foolish question alone, he said : "A rope is a thing with which to pull people out of ditches into which they have fallen." " Why have they not in- vented a machine for that ? A rope is too simple a thing." " 'T would take time for that," his father replied, " whereas your salvation is now at hand." " Time ? What kind of a thing is time ? " " Time is a thing that I am not going to waste with a fool. Stay there," his father said, " until I shall return! " How would it be if all the other verbose talkers were col- lected and put in the ditch to serve him as companions? Well, it would take a much larger ditch for that. Ydkov Borisovich Knyazhnin. (1742-1791.) Knyazhnin was born in Pskov, where he received his early educa- tion ; in St. Petersburg he acquired German, French and Italian, and began to write verses. He served in civil and military government offices. In 1769 he wrote his first tragedy, Dido, which attracted Catherine's attention to him. He then married Sumar6kov's daugh- ter and devoted himself more especially to literature. Knyazhnin wrote a number of tragedies and comedies : the subject of all of these is taken from Italian and French, thus his Vadlm of Novgorod is based on Metastasio's Clemenza di Tito, and the original of Odd People\s> Destouches's L'homme singulier. The Vadim of Ndvgorod had a peculiar history. Knyazhnin had great admiration for Cath- erine and her autocratic rule. In his Vadlm he tried to depict the struggle between republican N6vgorod and the monarchic Rurik, in which the latter comes out victorious, to the advantage of unruly N6vgorod. He had written it in 1789, but did not stage it on account of the disturbed condition of Europe under the incipient French Revolution. Two years after his death, in 1793, Princess Ddshkov, the President of the Academy, inadvertently ordered it to be pub- lished. The book appeared most inopportunely, at the very time the Revolution had broken forth. The tendency of the tragedy was over- looked, and only the republican utterances of Vadim were taken notice of. The book was ordered to be burnt by the executioner, but Ycikov Borisovich Knyazhnin 309 as only a few copies could be found in the storeroom of the Academy, the rest having been sold in the meanwhile, they were privately destroyed. VADIM OF NOVGOROD ACT I., SCENE 2. VADIM, PRENEST AND VIGOR Vadtm. Could Rurik so transform your spirit that you only weep where your duty is to strike ? Prentst. We burn to follow you, to be glorified for ever, to crush the haughty throne, to resuscitate our land; but though the zeal already burns within our hearts, it sees as yet no means of its fulfilment. Disdaining harsh and labor- ious days, if needs we must die, we are ready ; but that our death be not in vain and could save our beloved land from evil, and that, intent to break the fetters, we tighten them not more in servitude, we must expect the aid of the im- mortals, for the gods can give us a favourable opportunity. Vadtm. So we must depend alone upon the gods and in- gloriously remain the slaves we are ? The gods have given us the opportunity to wrest back freedom, and hearts to dare, and hands to strike ! Their aid is within us: what else do you wish? Go, creep, await in vain their thunder, but I alone, boiling with anger, will move to die for you, for I can brook no master ! O fate ! For three years absent from my country, enticed by victory for its glory I left liberty and happiness within these walls against us erected, and have been hurling pride into the dust. I bear the fruit of ray exploits a gift to my nation : but what do I see ? Lords who have lost their liberty bent in loathsome slavery before the king, and kissing their yoke under the sceptre. Tell me, how could you, seeing your country's fall, for a moment prolong your life in shame ? And if you could not preserve your liberty, how could you bear the light and want to live ? Vigor. As before, we burn with love for our fatherland ! Vadim. Prove it not with words, but with your blood! From your speech reject that sacred word. Or can slaves have a fatherland ? Vigor. Your spirit justly is with grief embittered, but in 310 The Eighteenth Century vain you, bedimmed by anger, accuse us, who are innocent, of such an evil crime. No sooner did you before the army bid our land good-bye, than many lords, seeing a means for evildoing, they, the mighty, let into the city, for the country's doom, arrogance, envy, hatred, riot. The home of peace was transformed into a hell; the holy truth hence- forth passed away; liberty, flurried, tottered to its fall; civil strife with brazen brow erected a house of death upon the bodies of its citizens. The people seeing itself a prey of hungry ravens fought with madness for the election of a tyrant. The whole V6lkhov boiled with reeking blood. Pitiful N6vgorod, you saw no salvation! The venerable Gostomysl, with grey hair adorned, had lost all his sons under these our walls, and, weeping not for them but the calamity of the citizens, was alone given to us a consolation by the immortals. He invited Rurik to our aid, and with his sword returned happiness to us. Just then, worn out from years and woes, Gostomysl ended his days, beaming with joy for having brought back peace to his country; but departing to the gods and honouring Rurik's heroism, he enjoined the nation to leave to him the power which had put a stop to its groans and sorrows. Our people, touched by so great deserts, placed the saviour over itself as ruler. Vadlm. Ruler! Rurik! What nation has he saved? Having come to our aid, what has he done for us ? He has paid a debt ! However his benefactions may have seemed to you to deserve repayment, were you compelled to pay with your liberty, and make your enslavement a gift to merit ? O low souls that fall down before fate and are inveigled by the stream of chance, oh, if you had known how to respect yourselves! Blessed would Rurik be, if he had been able, though clad in porphyry, to become equal to our citizens. Renowned by his high title among all kings, he would have been sufficiently rewarded by this distinction. Tell me: did Gostomysl, aware of his heroic deeds, enjoin fetters to you, to end your woes, or was his will the freedom of the citizens ? Or did he turn you over to him, like those beasts whom anyone who lists may bridle ? Y&kov Borisovich Knyazhnin 311 ODD PEOPLE ACT II., SCENE 2. MRS. INDOLENT, UUNKA, WEATHERVANE Weathervane. Ma charmante Ulinka ! Oh, how beautiful you are! Tous ces gens, how stupid, how dishonest, and they will not see in your eyes what I see. Ulinka, And what do you see ? Weathervane. Friponne! As if you did not know your- self that it is not possible to hate you, that you are fairer than heaven! (Ulinka courtesies.') You courtesy! How elegant! What a consolation to have such a daughter! (To Mrs. Indolent?) Is it not so, Maman ? Mrs. Indolent. I must confess that her education is what her birth demands, and as she has all liberty in her movements, as behooves a daughter born of me, she is, sir, removed from all coarseness; and keeping herself aloof from everything, as our dignity demands, she knows neither how to sew nor weave, leaving such occupations to common people; she dances like a peacock, sings like a nightingale, and, knowing French like a Frenchwoman, she would like to forget her Russian; she retires at three o'clock, rises at twelve, and passes two hours at her toilet. Weatheruane* Bravo, madam! That 's the way it ought to be before the world and men, ah, how do you call it ? pour les gens du haut ton. You must pardon me a little, madam, if I too, duly cautious of my honour, regard our language to be nothing but a jargon, in which it is not pos- sible properly to express your thoughts, and where you have to wear yourself out mercilessly in the attempt of finding your ideas. Only out of compulsion do I speak that lan- guage to my lackey, coachman and with all common people, where there is no need to exert yourself in thinking. But with our distinguished people it would be to appear a fool, not to speak French to them. Pray tell me, how could I fall in love? Je brule, je languis! How could I express that in Russian to charming Ulinka: I faint, I burn, 312 The Eighteenth Century fi done! I must assume that you speak French, and so does your poux. . . . Mrs. Indolent (perplexed}. Of course, of course! Com- ment vous portez-vous ? Weathervane. Bravo, madam! Mrs. Indolent. I am now a little out of practice, but formerly I never prattled in Russian. Weathervane. You will hardly believe how poor I am in Russian! In Russian my intelligence is so narrow, so small ! But in French: o, que le diable m'emporte ! My intelligence at once walks in by the grande porte. I '11 tell you what once happened to me. I was once sitting with a young lady who did not know two words of French, and that caused ma tte horriblement to ache, so that I had to pass a whole day at home in undress. Mrs. Indolent. I should not think the harm could be so great. The pain, no doubt, was caused through nagimation. Weathervane. Imagination you meant to say ? Mrs. Indolent. That 's it. You see, though I am a little out of practice, I am still able to adorn our coarse tongue, which I despise, with French morsels. My e"poux has always seemed such an odd fellow to me because, though he knows French like a Frenchman, he does not care to amuse himself with that charming language. Weathervane. That, madam, I cannot understand. A nobleman . . . Mrs. Indolent. Oh! His race is as distinguished as the ace of trumps, and nobody can compare with him in antiquity of origin: he can recount his ancestors a thousand years back. Weathervane. And so there is not the least obstacle, ma charmante Ulinka, for regarding you as my own! (Ulinka makes a courtesy.") Everything is equal in us: the graces, and pleasures, and intelligence, je m'en flatte, and even our families. (Ulinka courtesies^) How delicate your courtesy- ing at the mention of family ! Courtesying takes the place of redundant language, de discours frivoles, superfluous babbling. She knows how to say everything in a charming Ycikov Borisovich Knyazhnin 313 manner, and with modesty to express an immodest wish, who knows how to courtesy like Ulinka. (Noticing Mrs. Indolenfs husband.} Please tell me who is that bear that is walking towards us ? Mrs. Indolent. My husband. Weathervane. You are joking! Is it not rather his ances- tor who a thousand years ago began his race ? Mrs. Indolent. The exterior, you know, does not tell much. In this world, sir, it is not rare for hidden nobility to deceive the eye: though the diamond does not shine in the bark, yet it is a diamond. He is, I assure you, a noble- man of ancient race, and, forgive me, a bit of a philosopher. Weathervane. Is it not a shame to rank yourself with asses ? Is it an occupation for a nobleman to philosophise ? Mrs. Indolent (to Ulinka}. Now, Ulinka, you cannot stay here; we have to talk with father about you. (Ulinka courtesies. Exit?) SCENE; 3. INDOLENT, MRS. INDOLENT, WEATHERVANE Mrs. Indolent (aside). O Heaven ! Help me to end all suc- cessfully. I tremble, I am afraid my husband will give me away, for he cannot speak a word of French, and it is but recently that he was made a rlobleman. How unfortunate I am ! How am I to bear it all ? (To her husband.} You see here that distinguished cavalier who is doing us the extreme honour. Weathervane (bending, greets him foppishly). I wish to be a son-in-law. . . . Indolent (seating himself}. He who wants to sit down, let him sit down. I have no use for your manners, according to which one has to be urged to sit down. Well, distin- guished cavalier . . . ( Weathervane bows again fop- pishly) please quit your monograms which you are making with your feet. By bowing in flourishes, between us be it said, you will find little favour with me. With all these goatlike leaps a person appears to me to be full of wind and without a soul. Sir, make a mental note of it, if you wish to be my son-in-law. The Eighteenth Century Weathervane. If I wish ? O ciel ! Those are tous mes vceux ! Agnes Sorel was not so loved by the French king, as your daughter by me. Je jurerai toujours, I may say without making any court to her, she is a divinit6! Indolent (to his wife in amazement}. From where, dear wife, has God sent you such a cavalier ? Weathervane. Beaucoup d'honneur, monsieur! So I have found favour in your eyes ? I knew I would. You will not find another one like me, monsieur ! Indolent. Mosyo, give me a chance to regain my senses! I beg you. . . . Weathervane. But you put me to shame: you flatter me by saying that you are stunned by me. Indolent. Proceed, tormentor! Weathervane. 'T is true I have merite; without boasting, j'ose vous dire that; but I do not know whether it will cause any delire, only the world says that it would take a pretty good man to beat me for talent; qu'un homme tel que moi . . . Indolent. Don't believe it, the world often rants. Weathervane. Comment? Indolent. Tell me, are you a Russian or a Frenchman ? Weathervane. Helas ! I am not a Frenchman ! Indolent. What makes you groan so ? Weathervane (sorrowfully). I am a Russian, and that is a burden on my heart. Indolent. And so you regard it an insult to be a Russian ? A fine distinguished nobleman ! Weathervane. I am very, very glad, on ne peut plus, that I have pleased you, monsieur; que vous avez the same thoughts as I. How can we best prove our nobility ? By not knowing Russian, despising all that is ours, those are the veritable signs of our descent. Indolent. Though I cannot understand everything you say, since I do not know any foreign words, yet by the marks . . . Weathervane. Vous vous moquez, monsieur. You do know French. Ykov Borisovich Knyazhnin Indolent (angrily). No, no, no! Weathervane. At your age, monsieur, it is not proper for you to deceive me. You speak French like a Frenchman, or like myself. Indolent (impatiently). Wife, assure him of it, and put a stop to this nonsense. Weathervane (angrily). Je ne le croirai point ! How stub- born 3'ou are ! Indolent (excitedly). The devil . . . Mrs. Indolent (rapidly). My darling, please do not get angry. Indolent (excitedly). Both of you go to! I have not seen the like of him in all my life. Mrs. Indolent. You are a philosopher, and does Seneca, sir, teach you that ? Indolent (coolly). I am ready to constrain myself, if only he will talk Russian with me. Weathervane. What! you are of a very noble origin, and you are piqued ? Indolent (beside himself*). Who told you so? I am of burgher origin, but of a good family. Weathervane. You, monsieur, have been a nobleman these thousand years. Indolent. Believe me, I am a new-baked dumpling; but I am more juicy than those that have grown tough. Mrs. Indolent. Stop that . . . Indolent. That we may understand each other, I shall tell you plainly : my father, all remember that, was an honest smith. Weathervane. Qu'entends-je! (He walks away, singing a French song?) Indolent. Good-bye! Mrs. Indolent (fainting away). I am undone ! Oh, I am sick! Indolent. What nonsense ! To feel sick because I cannot speak French, and because my father is a smith! You ought not to have treated me that way, by lying about me. No, my Ulinka shall not mary him. 316 The Eighteenth Century Princess Ekaterina Romanovna Dashkov. (1743-1810.) Princess Dashkov was educated in the house of her uncle, Vice- Chancellor Voronts6v. She knew a number of foreign languages and took an interest in politics, rummaging through the documents in her uncle's archives. She travelled much abroad, where she cultivated the acquaintance of Diderot and Voltaire ; during a visit in England, when her son was graduating from the Edinburgh University, she met also Robertson and Adam Smith. Upon her return to Russia, Catherine II., partly from a sincere respect for her talents, and partly to reward her for her efforts in obtaining the throne for the Empress, made her the President of the Russian Academy which Princess Dashkov had herself founded. Her labours for the Academy were both thorough and far-reaching. She encouraged young writers, sent men abroad to be educated, published the first dictionary of the Russian language, caused others to translate from foreign tongues, and herself translated, especially from English ; she estab- lished several periodicals and did much for the advancement of science. In 1795, Princess Dashkov incurred the Empress's disfavour for per- mitting Knyazhnfn's drama, Vadlm of Nbvgorod, to be published in the Russian Theatre (see p. 308). Paul, who ascended the throne the next year, removed her from her post, but at the accession of Alexan- der I., the Academy unanimously voted to reinstate her as its Presi- dent, but she declined the offer. Her Memoirs were originally written in French, but they first saw the light in English, under the title : Memoirs of Princess Dashkaw, Written by Herself, edited by Mrs. W. Bradford, London, 1840, 2 vols. THE ESTABLISHMENT OF A RUSSIAN ACADEMY One day, whilst I was walking with the Empress in the gardens of Tsarskoe Sel6, our conversation turned on the beauty and richness of the Russian language, which led me to express a sort of surprise that her Majesty, who could well appreciate its value, and was herself an author, had never thought of establishing a Russian Academy. I observed that nothing was wanting but rules, and a good dictionary, to render our language wholly independent of those foreign terms and phrases, so very inferior to our own in expression and energy, which had been so absurdly introduced into it. Princess Ekaterina Romanovna Dashkov 3 1 7 " I really know not," replied her Majesty, " how it hap- pens that such an idea has not been already carried into effect; the usefulness of an establishment for the improve- ment of our own language has often occupied my thoughts, and I have even given directions about it." "That is very surprising, madam," said I, "for surely nothing can well be easier than the execution of such a pro- ject. There is a great variety of models to be found, and you have only to make choice of the best. ' ' " Do you, Princess, I beg," returned her Majesty, " give me a sketch of one. ' ' " It would be better, madam," replied I, " were you to order one of your secretaries to present you with a plan of the French Academy, the Academy at Berlin, and a few others, with remarks on such particulars as might be better adapted to the genius and habits of your own people. ' ' " I entreat of you, I must beg to repeat it," said the Em- press, "that you will take upon yourself this trouble, for then I can confidently look forward, through your zeal and activity, to the accomplishment of an object which, with shame I confess it, has been too long delayed." " The trouble, madam," I said, " will be very trifling, and I will obey you as expeditiously as possible; but I have not the books I wish to refer to at hand, and I must be allowed the liberty of again assuring your Majesty that any of the secretaries in the ante-chamber would execute the commis- sion better than myself. ' ' Her Majesty, however, continuing to express herself of a different opinion, I found it useless to offer objections. When I returned home in the evening, I set myself, there- fore, to consider how I might best execute her orders, and before I went to bed I drew up a sort of plan, which I thought might furnish some ideas for the formation of the establishment in view, and sent it off to the Empress, more, indeed, for the purpose of complying with her wishes than from any serious thought of furnishing a design worthy of her choice and adoption. My astonishment may therefore be imagined, when I received back, from the hands of her 3*8 The Eighteenth Century Majesty, this imperfect outline of a scheme hastily con- ceived and informally drawn up, with all the ceremonial of an official instrument, confirmed by the sanction of her Imperial signature, and accompanied with an ukase which conferred on me the presidentship of the embryo academy. A copy of this ukase, I at the same time learned, had been transmitted to the Senate. Though this had the air of the Empress's being in earnest, and resolute in her intentions with regard to me, I neverthe- less went to TsaYskoe Sel6 two days afterwards, still hoping to prevail on her Majesty to make choice of some other presi- dent. Finding my efforts unavailing, I told her Majesty that as Director of the Academy of Arts and Sciences I had already at my disposal sufficient funds for the maintenance of the new establishment, and that she need be at no other ex- pense, at present, than the purchase of a house for it. These funds, I observed, in explanation, would arise out of the five thousand roubles which she gave annually, from her private purse, for translations of the classics. The Empress evinced her surprise and satisfaction, but expressed her hopes that the translations should be continued. " Most assuredly, madam," said I, " the translations shall be carried on, and I trust more extensively than hitherto, by the students of the Academy of Sciences, subject to the re- vision and correction of the professors; and thus the five thousand roubles, of which the directors have never rend- ered any account, and which, to judge from the very few translations that have appeared, they seem to have put into their own pockets, may now be turned to a very useful pur- pose. I will have the honour, madam," added I, "of pre- senting you soon with an estimate of all the necessary expenses of the proposed establishment; and considering the sum I have stated as the extent of its means, we shall then see if anything remains for the less absolute requisites, such as medals and casts, a few of which may be deemed, indeed, almost indispensable, in order to reward and distin- guish the most deserving of its students." In the estimate, which I accordingly made, I fixed the Princess Ekaterina Romanovna Dashkov 319 salary of two secretaries at 900 roubles, and of two translat- ors at 450 roubles each. It was necessary, also, to have a treasurer, and four persons, invalid soldiers, to heat the stove and take care of the house. These appointments together I estimated at 3300 roubles, which left the 1700 for fuel, paper and the occasional purchase of books, but no surplus whatever for casts and medals. Her Majesty, who had been accustomed to a very different scale of expenditure, was, I think, more surprised than pleased at this estimate; but signified her desire to add whatever was wanted for the purposes not provided for in it, and this I fixed at 1 250 roubles. The salary of the president, and contingent perquisites of office, were not usually forgot- ten in estimates of this nature, but in the present I had not assigned myself a single rouble; and thus was a most useful establishment, answering every object of its institution, founded and supported at no greater expense to her Majesty than the price of a few honorary badges. To sum up all that may be said on the subject of the Rus- sian Academy, I may be allowed to state the following par- ticulars: viz., in the first place, that with three years' arrears of her Majesty's bounty, originally granted for the translation of the classics, which had not been paid to Mr. Domdshnev, that is to say, with 15,000 roubles, in addition to what sums I could spare from the economic fund, I built two houses in the court of the house given by the Empress for the Academy, which added a rent of 1950 roubles to its revenue; I furn- ished the house of the Academy, and by degrees purchased a very considerable library, having, in the meantime, lent my own for its use ; I left 4900 roubles as a fund, placed in the Foundling Hospital; I began, finished and published a dictionary; and all this I had accomplished at the end of eleven years. I say nothing of the new building for the Academy, the elevation of which has been so much admired, executed, indeed, under my directions, but at the expense of the Crown, and therefore not to be enumerated among those labours which were more especially my own. Besides, had it been, strictly speaking, a work of mine, I could never 320 The Eighteenth Century have considered it as one of my labours; for with so decided a taste, or rather passion, as I had for architecture, such a work would have formed one of my highest gratifications. I ought to observe, before I dismiss the subject, that many things occurred at Court relative to the concerns of my office both to vex and disgust me. The enlightened part of the public, indeed, rendered me more than justice in the tribute of praise they bestowed on my zeal and public-spiritedness, to which they were pleased to refer all the merit of the institu- tion of a Russian Academy, as well as the astonishing rapidity with which the first dictionary of our native lan- guage was completed. This latter work was the subject of a very clamorous criticism, particularly as to the method of its verbal arrange- ment, which was not according to an alphabetical, but an etymological order. This was objected to, as rendering the dictionary confused, and ill adapted for popular use; an objection very loudly echoed by the courtiers as soon as it was known to have been made by the Empress, who asked me more than once why we had adopted so inconvenient an arrangement. It was, I informed her Majesty, no unusual one in the first dictionary of any language, on account of the greater facility it afforded in showing and even discovering the roots of words; but that the Academy would publish, in about three years, a second edition, arranged alphabetically, and much more perfect in every respect. I know not how it was that the Empress, whose perception could embrace every object, even those the most profound, appeared not to comprehend me, but this I know, that I ex- perienced in consequence much annoyance, and notwith- standing my repugnance to declare the opinion which her Majesty had pronounced against our dictionary, at a sitting of the Academy, I determined to bring forward the question again at our first meeting, without entering into some other matters connected with it for which I had often been made accountable. All the members, as I expected, gave their judgment that it was impossible to arrange otherwise the first dictionary of Semen Andreevich Poroshin 321 our language, but that the second would be more complete, and disposed in aphabetical order. I repeated to the Empress, the next time I saw her, the unanimous opinion of the academicians, and the reason for it. Her Majesty, however, continued to retain her own, and was, in fact, at that time much interested in a work dignified by the name of a dictionary, of which Mr. Pallas was the compiler. It was a sort of vocabulary, in nearly a hundred languages, some of which presented the reader with about a score of words only, such as earth, air, water, father, -mother and so forth. Its learned author, celebrated for the publica- tion of his travels in Russia, and for his attainments in natural history, had dared to run up the expense of printing this work, called a dictionary, to flatter a little prejudice of her Majesty, to a sum exceeding 20,000 roubles, not to men- tion the very considerable cost it brought on the Cabinet in dispatching couriers into Siberia, Kamchatka and so forth, to pick up a few words in different languages, meagre and of little utility. Paltry and imperfect as was this singular performance, it was extolled as an admirable dictionary, and was to me at that time an occasion of much disgust and vexation. Semen Andreevich Poroshin. (1741-1769.) Poroshin studied in the military school, where he distinguished himself for his knowledge of foreign languages and mathematics. Even as a student, he became a contributor to literary magazines. After leaving school, he was attached as adjutant to Peter III. From 1762 he was teacher of mathematics to Paul, whom he tried to impress with a sense of duty and love of country. In 1764 and 1765 he kept a diary of his relations to the young Grand Duke, hoping some day to use it as material for a history of his reign. In 1769 he died during an expedition against Turkey, being then commander of a regiment of infantry. FROM HIS "DIARY" October 29, 1764.. Having dressed himself, his Highness sat down to study. Then he went incognito to his drawing- room to get a look at the Turkish ambassador, who was 322 The Eighteenth Century having an audience with his Excellency Nikita Ivdnovich. He was received in the same manner as the first time. But when I arrived, his Highness did not receive me so kindly as to make me satisfied with him. I do not wish now to enter into any especial discussion of the cause of it, but will only remark that his Highness is frequently greatly influ- enced by the remarks made in regard to absent persons which he happens to overhear. I have repeatedly noticed that if anything favourable or laudatory is said in his hear- ing of someone, his Highness later shows himself kindly disposed to him ; if, on the contrary, something unfavourable and deprecatory is said of anyone, especially when the re- mark is not made directly to his Highness, but as if by accid- ent, he, seeing him, appears to be cold to him. We seated ourselves at the table. His Excellency Nikita Ivdnovich did not dine with us. Of outsiders there was only Count Alexander Sergy&ch Strogan6v. I have suffered terrible anguish to-day at table. How could one help suf- fering, considering what had taken place ? We were talking about Peter the Great. Someone, passing in silence all the great qualities of that monarch, deemed it proper to dwell only on the fact that the Tsar used often to get drunk, and that he beat his ministers with his cane. Another person, incautiously emulating this conversation, which ought in no way be tolerated in the presence of his Highness, added that when the Tsar was at one time beating with his cane one of his generals who was a German, the latter later repeated from the Bible: " The hand of the I/>rd was upon me, etc." The first person continued, saying that history knew only of two royal wallopers, Peter I. and the late King of Prussia, the father of the present King. I^ater he began to praise Charles XII., the King of Sweden; I told him that Voltaire had written that Charles XII. deserved to be the first soldier in Peter the Great's army. Upon this his Highness asked whether it was really so. The speaker answered his High- ness that it was very likely written that way, but that it was nothing but mere flattery. When I later spoke of the Emperor's letters, which he had Semen Andreevich Poroshin 323 written from abroad to his ministers, and remarked that for the correct understanding of his time it was necessary to have these letters, and that I possessed many of them, and so forth, the first speaker did not deign to make any other remarks thereupon except that these letters were very funny because the Emperor often addressed them to ' ' Min Her Ad- miral," and signed them " Piter." I found it difficult to dis- semble my dissatisfaction, and to subdue my excitement. I leave it to the whole intelligent and unbiassed world whether it is proper to let his Imperial Highness, the heir apparent of the Russian throne, and a great-grandchild of Emperor Peter the Great, to be a witness to such malicious remarks. Xenophon has represented in his Cyrus a perfect king, and his rule a beneficent rule, and an example for the emulation of the monarchs of future generations. Senseless historians in many points contradict Xenophon's history, and try to point out the weaknesses of his hero. But clever and far-sighted men care very little whether Cyrus was really such as Xenophon has painted him, or otherwise, and extol the historian for having given us a perfect model for kings, and they adduce his wise rule as an example for them to follow. Thus, too, many other menarchs, whose great deeds history has preserved to our own days, are adduced as an example. Is it not necessary to present to his Highness the praiseworthy deeds of famous heroes, in order to rouse in him the desire and noble impulse of emulat- ing them ? That seems to be evident and incontrovertible. Now, whose deeds will awaken in him a greater attention, will produce a stronger effect upon him, and are more im- portant for his knowledge, than the deeds of Emperor Peter the Great of blessed memory ? They are esteemed great and glorious in the whole subsolar world, and are proclaimed with ecstasy by the lips of the sons of Russia. The Grand Duke, his Highness's own grandchild, was born in the same nation, and by the decree of God will in time be the ruler of the same nation. If there had never beer on the Russian throne such an incomparable man as was his Highness's great ancestor, it 324 The Eighteenth Century would be useful to invent him, for his Highness' s emulation. But we have such a famous hero, and what happens ? I do not mean to say that the Emperor Peter the Great was free from imperfections. Who of mortals is? As many great men as history knows have all been subject to certain weak- nesses. But when they are used as examples, we must not sermonise about their vices, but about their virtues. Vices may either entirely be passed over in silence, or they may be mentioned, but only incidentally, with the remark that the ruler who is taken as a model tried his best to free him- self from them and that he overcame them. And the very opposite has happened. . . . At table Prince Baryatinski remarked that during his stay in Sweden he had heard that all the wearing apparel, sword, boots and everything else that had belonged to King Charles XII. was preserved in the arsenal. I retorted that in our Museum are preserved the wearing apparel and other be- longings of Peter the Great, but that we naturally had more reason to keep these things than the Swedes, because the one defended his country and brought it to a flourishing condition, while the other had brought his to such ruin that even to the present day it has not been resuscitated, and that, of course, not one intelligent Swede could mention the name of Charles XII. without disgust. Prince Sergy6ich assented to this. Then the conversation turned to Keissler's travels, and then to the academic translators Tepl6v, Golub- ts6v and Lbedev. I said that they knew and translated Russian well. The first speaker remarked to that: "And yet they all died the same death, namely, from drinking." Thereupon the Grand Duke turned to me and said : ' ' Now, you hear that yourself. I suppose that is not a lie ? " I answered that I did not know them intimately, that I was not acquainted with the manner of their demise, and that equally I did not know where that gentleman got his in- formation. February 28, 1765. His Highness arose at eight o'clock. After having dressed himself, he sat down to his customary studies. After his lesson he looked with me carefully at the Semn Andreevich Poroshin 325 road map to Moscow, and recollected where and how we passed the time on our last journey thither. I read to his "Highness Vertot's History of the Order of Maltese Knights. Then he amused himself with his toys, and, attaching to his cavalry the flag of the admiralty, imagined himself a Maltese Knight. At ten o'clock we sat down to breakfast. We spoke of Moscow and dramatic performances. We were about to rise from table, when someone, I do not remember who, asked for butter and cheese. The Grand Duke became angry at the butler and said : ' ' Why did you not put it on the table before? " and then turning to us: " They simply steal the things for themselves! " We all armed ourselves against the Grand Duke and told him in French how bad it was to insult in this way a man of whom he could not know whether he was guilty or not. When we left the table, this sermon was continued. Mr. Osterwald and I told his Highness in strong terms how bad his action was, and how easily he could cause those people to hate him. Then our conversation turned to the labours that an Emperor must undertake. His Highness remarked among other things: " But an Emperor cannot work all the time! He needs also some rest, and his amusements." To this I retorted to the Grand Duke: " No one demands that an Emperor should never have any rest, for that is above human strength, and an Emperor is just such a man as anybody else; only he has been exalted to his position by God for his nation, and not for himself; that, consequently, he must use all his endeavour in the welfare and advance- ment of his nation ; that his amusements and pleasures ought to consist in his knowledge and vivid representation of the great mass of his subjects who through his labours and cares enjoy well-being and numberless advantages, and of the flourishing condition of his country as the result of his work, and how his name will in just glory redound to the future generations." These are the exact words which I spoke to his Highness. He listened to them very attentively. September 20, 1765. The birthday of his Imperial High- ness; he is eleven years old. His Highness arose a little The Eighteenth Century after seven. ... I was not yet all dressed, when he ap- peared in my room, took me by my hand and began to walk around with me. I congratulated the TsareVich upon his birthday, and explained to him my wishes in regard to him, which were similar to those of all the faithful sons of the country. Having dressed himself, he went into the yellow room. His Reverence, Father Plat6n, addressed to the Tsare" vich a short congratulation, in which he presented very strongly and wittily our wishes and hopes in the progress of his Highness's studies. Then his Highness went into the interior apartments to the Empress, and from there with her Highness to church. At the end of the liturgy, Father Plat6n spoke a sermon on the theme: " Settle it therefore in your hearts, not to meditate before what ye shall answer " (Luke xxi. 14). The whole sermon was beautiful. But especially the final address to her Highness and the Grand Duke visibly moved the hearts of all. Many eyes were seen in tears. . . . The Empress went from church to her inner apartments, and his Highness followed her. As we were there admitted to kiss her hand, she said among other things: " Father Platon does with us what he wants. If he wants us to weep, we weep; if he wants us to laugh, we laugh." The Satirical Journals (1760-1774), and Nikolay Ivanovich N6vikov. (1744-1818.) The first attempt at a periodical was made as early as the year 1728, when literary essays were regularly added to the news of the day in the St. Petersburg Gazette, but the first literary journal was estab- lished in 1759 by Sumar6kov under the name of The Industrious Bee. The example of Russia's first litterateur was at once imitated by a number of private individuals, and magazines became common, though their life was nearly always very short. In 1769 there was issued by Grig6ri Kozitski, under Catherine's supervision, the first satirical journal, under the name of All Kinds of Things. During the time of reforms, satire appears as a natural weapon of attack against the old order of things, and there was, therefore, nothing unusual in the popularity which this and the following satirical journals Satirical Journals 3 2 7 attained. There is, however, also another reason for their appearance. The English Spectator, Tatter and Rambler were at that time well known in Russia, and the literary part of the St. Petersburg Gazette brought out a large number of translations from these English jour- nals. All Kinds of Things shows plainly the influence of Addison in the tone of playful censure which was to Catherine's liking and which it cultivated. Of the several satirical periodicals that followed, the Hell's Post; or, Correspondence between the Lame and the Halt Devils, by F. Emin, and the famous Drone, by N. I. N6vikov, may be mentioned. The name of the latter is evidently chosen in contradistinction to Sumaro- kov's Industrious Bee, and its editor, of whose imposing personality we shall speak later, belonged to that enlightened class of men who were in sympathy with the most advanced reforms, but had no love for the flimsy Voltairism which pervaded Russian society, and, like the Slavophile Shcherbatov (see p. 287), thought he discerned some stern virtues in the generations preceding the reforms of Peter the Great. He therefore set out to scourge vice wherever he found it. The satirical journals were divided into two camps : some clung to the mild and harmless satire of All Kinds of Things, the others took the Drone for their model. When the collaboration of Catherine in the first became known, N6vikov found it necessary to desist from his attacks, to avoid the displeasure of the Empress, and soon his journal stopped entirely. He later edited for a short time the Painter and the Purse, but in 1774 all satirical journals ceased to exist. The most important of these journals has been the Painter, from which a generation of writers drew subjects for their satire or comedy. N6vikov's early education was received at the Gymnasium con- nected with the Moscow University; he was excluded from it in 1760 for laziness and insufficient progress. He soon drifted into literature, and directed his attention to the dissemination of useful knowledge among the people. He developed a prodigious activity from 1772 to 1778, publishing a large number of chronicles and documents dealing with Russian antiquity. In 1779 he rented the University press for ten years, published in three years more books than had been issued by that institution in the preceding twenty-four years of its existence, opened bookstores all over Russia and encouraged and protected a whole generation of young writers. He was a zealous Mason, and in that capacity practised a most generous philanthropy by using the very great income from his venture for the establishment of charities and schools. Catherine was never favourable to the Masons and other mystics who had got a firm foothold in St. Petersburg and Moscow, and when the French Revolution had broken out, she suspected such men as Radisbchev (see p. 361) and N6vikov of belonging to a secret 328 The Eighteenth Century society whose object was the overturning of the existing order of things. At first she ordered the metropolitan Plat6n to examine into the soundness of N6vikov's religious views, but the enlightened pre- late reported : "I implore the all-merciful God that not only in the flock which has been entrusted by God and you to me, but in the whole world there should be such good Christians as N6vikov." Nevertheless, Catherine later found an excuse for seizing N6vikov and imprisoning him in the fortress of Schliisselburg, from which he was released by Emperor Paul, who is said with tears in his eyes and upon his knees to have begged N6vikov's forgiveness for his mother's cruelty to him. He passed the rest of his days in his estate of Tikhvin. FROM "ALL KINDS OF THINGS" I lately went to dine in a Moscow suburb with a friend of mine. To my great displeasure I found the house in great sorrow because his wife had had a bad dream which threat- ened some danger to him, her and their children. We seated ourselves at the table. Their youngest boy, who was sitting at the end of the table, began to cry: " Mamma, I shall begin my problems on Monday. " " On Monday ! ' ' ex- claimed his mother: "The Lord preserve us! Nobody begins anything new on Monday. Tell the deacon to begin on Tuesday. ' ' The lady of the house asked me to pass her the salt. I hastened to do her the favour, but, being timid and overzealous, I dropped the salt-cellar in passing it. She trembled when she saw the mishap, and immediately re- marked that the salt was spilled in her direction. Collecting herself again, she sighed and said to her husband: "My darling, misfortune never comes single. You will remember that the dove-cot broke down the same day our servant girl spilled the salt on the table. " " Yes, I remember, ' ' said her husband, " and next day we received the news of the battle of Zorndorf. ' ' I managed to finish my dinner, though with a heavy heart. The dinner being over, I accidentally placed my knife and fork crosswise on my plate. The hostess asked me to put them together. I soon learned from the lady's behaviour that she looked upon me as an odd fellow and foreboder of misfortunes. Satirical Journals 3 2 9 Gentlemen : He who writes All Kinds of Things ought not to disdain anything. In this hope I, though a common labourer, take up the pen without hesitation, thinking that you might find something of interest in what I write. I have no intricate style, but write simply, just as I think. I am a silversmith. Though I was not born here, I love Russia. I am not the only German whom it supports. The Lord may grant all to feel as gratefully to Russia, but people feel differently about that. I work for many people, among them for a French teacher. You know there are bushels of them in Moscow. The one I am telling you about came to his profession in a strange manner. He was originally a shoemaker. Suddenly he was seized by the spirit of heroism, or, to tell the truth, indolence and starvation compelled him to enlist as a soldier. After the battle of Rossbach, he fled in company with many others. He worked in many capaci- ties, wandering about from place to place, and finally reached Russia, where he developed the proper qualifications for a coachman. But he soon grew tired of sitting on the coach- man's seat, and had a strong desire of getting inside the carriage. He found no easier way of accomplishing his ambition than by becoming a teacher, emulating in this the example of many of his countrymen who, some from the box, like him, others from the footman's stand, have found their way into the carriage. And he succeeded. Thus a lazy shoemaker, runaway soldier and bad coachman was turned into a first-class teacher. At least he appears to me to be good because he pays promptly for my work and does not feed me, as other gentlemen do, with to-morrows. SOUND REASONING ADORNS A MAN My teacher made me once a present of a doll on my name- day, accompanying it with the following noteworthy words: " Every brainless man is a doli." I asked him whom he meant by the word " brainless," and he answered: "Him who obeys more his will than established rules." I wanted to know why. He said: " Will without rule is licence, and 33 The Eighteenth Century licence is injurious to oneself and his neighbour, whereas rules have been established in life in order to curb harmful lusts." I sighed and said: "Oh, I see, then our neighbour committed an act of licence, and did not obey the established rules, when he took away our meadows so that our cattle are starving." "Our neighbour," he answered with a smile, " has his own rules. He belongs to the class of people who say every morning: ' Lord, I am in need of everything, but my neighbour is in need of nothing.' ' We paid such a high salary to this teacher that my step- mother found it necessary to dismiss him, in order to add one hundred roubles to the cook's wages, and another cheaper teacher was hired for me. He belonged to the class of people who write in their will that they are to be buried without being washed. His affection for his ungrateful country was so strong that he always had the name of Paris in his mouth, in spite of the fact that he had been driven out of his country with the coat of arms of a full-blown lily im- printed on his back. 1 He knew by heart the names of all the streets of Paris, and the external walls of all the promi- nent buildings of that city were familiar to him, but he had never had the courage to enter them. He was so adorned with wisdom that he knew everything without having studied anything. He had an absolute contempt for every- thing that did not transpire in France. For other things he had no mind, for frequently, in a fit of abstraction, he put other people's property into his pockets, the result of which was a certain misunderstanding, as he called it, between him and the police. The police proved that he had stolen, but he affirmed the word ' ' steal ' ' was the invention of crass ignor- ance, and that an honest man must defend his honour from the police by means of the rapier. So he invited the com- missary of police to fight a duel with him. The latter not being as good a talker as he was wont to stick to incon- trovertible proofs, ordered my mentor to be cast into prison. 1 French criminals had the lily burnt upon their backs, hence they wanted to be buried unwashed, that their disgrace should not become apparent Satirical Journals 331 My mother was quite put out about him, for she said she did not know where to get another cheap teacher like him. However, there arrived at that time some guests at our house who assured her that that very day there had arrived in Mos- cow the coachman of the French ambassador, with his scul- lion, hair-dresser, courier and lackey, who did not wish to return with him, and that for the common good of the people of Moscow they had the intention of imparting their arts to those who wanted to be instructed for a reasonable considera- tion, though somewhat higher than the price they had received in the stable, kitchen, kennel, or for blackening shoes and making wigs. I once went to see my friend and, as he was not at home, went to his wife's apartments. She had stepped down into the nursery. As I am quite at home there, I went down into the nursery myself and found her surrounded by her four children. The smallest boy started crying; to pacify him, his mother made him beat the nurse with a handker- chief. She pretended she was crying, while the mother kept on repeating : " Beat her, my darling, beat well the stupid nurse! She had no business annoying baby." The child was trying to strike the nurse hard ; and the harder he struck her, she feigned weeping harder, whereat the child smiled. A little while later, another child fell down. The mother told it to spit on the floor and to kick the place where it had stumbled. When I remarked that it was not good education to allow the child to do that, she answered me: " My friend, you are always philosophising. As if we had not been brought up in the same way ! Why should it be different with these babies?" Then I heard the whining of a dog. I looked around and saw a third child pinching a pup, while another child was frightening a canary bird by striking with his hands against the cage: the poor little bird flitted about distressed from one corner to another. I lost my patience, and told their mother: " You are making tyrants of these children, if you do not teach them to respect man and beast. I '11 tell your husband so! " and I slammed the door as I went out. 33 2 The Eighteenth Century FROM THE "DRONE" RECIPE FOR HIS EXCELLENCY, MR. LACKSENSE This nobleman suffers from a quotidian fever of boasting of his family. He traces his family tree to the beginning of the universe, and hates all those who cannot prove their aristocratic blood at least five hundred years back, and loathes to speak with those whose nobility is only a hundred years old or less. He shakes with fever the moment some- body mentions burghers or peasants in his presence. In opposition to the modern current appellation, he does not even honour them with the name " low-born," but in the fifty years of his fruitless life he has not yet been able to find a proper term for them. He does not travel to church nor in the streets, for fear of a dead faint which would unavoid- ably fall upon him the moment he met an ignoble man. Our patient complains hourly against fate for having des- tined him to share the same air, sun and moon with the common people. He wishes there were no other beings on the whole globe but aristocrats, and that the common people should all be annihilated. He had repeatedly handed in projects to that effect, and they had been highly praised for the good and novel ideas contained therein, though many rejected them, because the inventor demanded three million roubles in advance in order to execute his plans. Our aristocrat hates and loathes all the sciences and arts, and regards them as a disgrace for any noble gentleman. In his opinion a blueblood can know everything without having learned it; but philosophy, mathematics, physics and all the other sciences are trifles that are below a nobleman's attention. Books of heraldry and letters patent that have just escaped the dust-pile and mould are the only books which he continually reads by spelling out. Alexandrian sheets, on which the names of his ancestors are written in circles, are the only pictures with which his house is adorned. But to be short; the trees by which he illustrates the descent of his family have many a dry limb, but there is no more rotten Satirical Journals 333 twig upon them than he himself is, and in all his family coats of arms there is not such a beast as is his Excellency. However, Mr. Lacksense thinks differently of himself, and worships himself as a great man in mind, and as a small god in his nobility. To make the whole world believe the same way, he tries to differ from all others, not by useful and glorious deeds, but by magnificent houses, carriages and liveries, though he spends on his foolishness all his income that ought to support him ten years hence. Recipe, to cure Mr, Lacksense of his fever. It is necessary to inoculate the sick man with a good dose of common sense and philanthropy, in order to kill in him his empty super- ciliousness and the lofty contempt for other people. Noble descent is, indeed, a great privilege, but it will always be dishonoured if it is not fortified by personal worth and noble services to your country. Meseems it is more laudable to be a poor yeoman or burgher and a useful member of society than a distinguished drone who is known only for his stupid- ity, his house, carriages and liveries. THE LAUGHING DEMOCRITOS Bah ! There is the miser in his rags and tags, who has all his life been hoarding money and squandering his conscience; who is dying from hunger and cold; who teaches his serv- ants to eat to live, that is, not more than is necessary to keep body and soul together; who is known far and wide for his unlawful usury ; who has imposed upon himself and all his slave cattle a whole year's fast; who in winter heats his miserable hut only once a week ; who is ready to sell himself for a dime, and who has forty thousand roubles, in order to leave them after his death to his stupid nephew, that seven- teen-year-old wretch who in miserliness and unscrupulous usury has surpassed his uncle of sixty years; who steals money from himself and takes a fine from himself for this theft; and who does not want to get married all his life, only not to spend his income on his wife and children. Oh, they deserve being laughed at. Ha, ha, ha ! Meseems I see his opposite. Of course, it is Spendthrift ? 334 The Eighteenth Century Certainly. Oh, that young man ha3 not the vices of his father, but he is infested by other vices, not less objection- able. His father hoarded money by unlawful exactions, and he spends it recklessly. His miserly father consumed in one month what he ought to have eaten in one day ; Spendthrift, on the contrary, devours in a day what he ought to eat up in a year. The other walked in order not to spend money for the feeding of the horses; this one keeps six carriages and six tandems, not counting the saddle and sleigh horses, only that he may not get tired of travelling all the time in one and the same carriage. The other wore for twenty years the same miserable caftan; while to Spendthrift twenty pairs a year seem too little. In short, his father collected a great treasure through all illegal means, usury, maltreatment of his kin, and ruin of the helpless; but Spendthrift ruins himself and lavishes on others: they are both fools, and I laugh at both. Ha, ha, ha, ha! Who is galloping there so swiftly? Bah! it is Simple. He is hurrying to some aristocratic house, to show there his stupidity. Simple glories in visiting distinguished people. He goes to see them as often as possible and, to please them, makes a fool of himself, then boasts to others of the influence he has there. He takes part in their conversa- tions and, though he knows nothing, thinks he is posing as a wise man; he reads books, but he does not understand them ; goes to the theatre, criticises the actors and, repeating what he has heard elsewhere, speaks authoritatively: this actor is good, that one is bad. He tells distinguished people all kinds of jokes, and wants to be cutting in his remarks, though he never adapts them to the occasion; in short, Simple tries to convince himself that his acts are intelligent, but others think that they are silly. Ha, ha, ha! Hypocrite steps humbly out of church and distributes to the poor that surround him a farthing each, and counts them off on his rosary. As he walks along, he mumbles his prayers. He turns his eyes away from women, and shades them with his hands, for he avers he would take them out if they tempted him. Hypocrite sins every minute, but he Satirical Journals 335 appears as a righteous man that walks over a path strewn with thorns. His simulated prayers, piety and fasts in no way keep him from ruining and oppressing his like. Hypocrite has stolen thousands, and he gives them away by farthings. By such appearances he deceives many. He hourly preaches the nine virtues to young people, but in the sixty years of his life he has never carried out one himself. Hypocrite always walks humbly and never turns his looks to heaven, for he cannot hope to deceive these that abide there; but he looks upon the earth whose inhabitants he cheats. Ha, ha, ha! FROM " HELL'S POST" LETTER FROM HALT TO LAME Last evening I took a walk in the park where nearly the whole town disports itself twice a week. I seated myself with a friend on a bench : four men, all acquaintances of my friend, passed by us; one of them was an ex-officer who had left the service, in order that he may not serve the Tsar, that he may cheat the world and become rich through illegal means. All the pettifoggers and the minor officials at the court of justice, and all the large litigators are known to him. He hardly ever goes out of the Land Office, and even in other places there appears almost every day a complaint of his. All the doubtful villages are his, and he frequently makes application for them, proving that they once belonged to his ancestors. He has no end of genealogies in his pocket, and upon request can prove his descent from any family he pleases. He buys promissory notes at a great discount, and gets the money from the creditor with all the interest due thereupon. If anybody borrows money from him, he never asks more than five kopeks from the rouble a month, and he deducts the interest in advance. PROM LAME TO HALT A certain secretary of a government office in this town 33 6 The Eighteenth Century got himself into trouble by taking bribes, but he very soon freed himself through his cunning. Although many orders explicitly demand that no bribes should be received by offic- ers, yet they insist that it is superhuman to receive nothing from complainants. Many people of that class, however, do not submit to the common weakness of the office, and live on their incomes and salaries, but they have always empty pockets. Scribe S. is much richer than Secretary V. because the one sells every step of his, while the other attends to the affairs under his charge for nothing. Now many of these gentlemen have discovered a secret of stealing in a diplomatic way, that is, they no longer take bribes themselves, but send the complainant to their wives, who receive them very graciously. If he is a merchant, she asks for some stuffs or velvet for a dress. When the goods have been brought to her house, she says to the merchant: " My friend, come again in a few days, and I will pay you! " The merchant knows what that means and, being in need of her husband, goes home and for ever bids good-bye to the goods he has fur- nished. If the complainant is a nobleman, the officer's wife tells him that she has no servant-girl, or boy, and that she is compelled to do all the work herself; and the complainant, having of necessity learned this conventional language, an- swers her as she wants to be answered. Thus, in the taking of bribes there has been produced this change: formerly the husband was dishonest, now his wife helps him. But there are some officials who are even more cunning and who steal in an honourable manner. They invite the complainant who has any dealing with them to dinner, after which they sit down and play cards with him. When they lose, they assume a very angry look, but when they win, they look exceedingly satisfied : this language the complainants have soon learned to understand. To please the host, they throw off trumps and, losing to the host, say two hundred roubles or as much as the host expects for the case in hand, receive the next day a favourable decision for it. Even the mer- chants have become refined and frequent the houses of of- ficials to play cards with them. Satirical Journals 337 FROM THE "PAINTER" To My Son Falaley: Is that the way you respect your father, an honourably discharged captain of dragoons ? Did I educate you, accursed one, that I should in my old age be made through you a laughing-stock of the whole town ? I wrote you, wretch, in order to instruct you, and you had my letter published. You fiend, you have ruined me, and it is enough to make me insane! Has such a thing ever been heard, that children should ridicule their parents ? Do you know that I will order you to be whipped with the knout, in strength of ukases, for disrespect to your parents! God and the Tsar have given me this right, and I have power over your life, which you seem to have forgotten. I think I have told you more than once that if a father or mother kills a son, they are guilty only of an offence against the church. ' My son, stop in time ! Don't play a bad trick upon yourself: it is not far to the Great Lent, and I don't mind fasting then. St. Petersburg is not beyond the hills, and I can reach you by going there myself. Well, my son, I forgive you for the last time, at your mother's request. If it were not for her, you would have heard of me ere this, nor would I have paid attention to her now, if she were not sick unto death. Only I tell you, look out: if you will be guilty once more of disrespect to me, you need not expect any quarter from me. I am not of Sid6rovna's " kind : let me get at you, and you will groan for more than a month. Now listen, my son : if you wish to come into my graces again, ask for your resignation, and come to live with me in the country. There are other people besides you to serve in the army. If there were no war now, I should not mind your serving, but it is now wartime, and you might be sent into the field, which might be the end of you. There is a proverb: " Pray to God, but look out for yourself" ; so you For which the punishment would be a penance of fasting. * His wife's name. VOL. I. 28. 33 8 The Eighteenth Century had better get out of the way, which will do you more good. Ask for your discharge and come home to eat and sleep as much as you want, and you will have no work to do. What more do you want ? My dear, it is a hard chase you have to give after honour. Honour! Honour! It is not much of an honour, if you have nothing to eat. Suppose you will get no decoration of St. George, but you will be in better health than all the cavaliers of the order of St. George. There are many young people who groan in spite of their St. George, and many older ones who scarcely live: one has his hands all shot to pieces, another his legs, another his head: is it a pleasure for parents to see their sons so dis- figured ? And not one girl will want you for a husband. By the way, I have found a wife for you. She is pretty well off, knows how to read and write, but, above all, is a good housekeeper: not a blessed thing is lost with her. That 's the kind of a wife I have found for you. May God grant you both good counsel and love, and that they should give you your dismissal! Come back, my dear: you will have enough to live on outside of the wife's dowry, for I have laid by a nice little sum. I forgot to tell you that your fianc6e is a cousin of our Governor. That, my friend, is no small matter, for all our cases at law will be decided in our favour, and we will swipe the lands of our neighbours up to their very barns. I tell you it will be a joy, and they won't have enough land left to let their chickens out. And then we will travel to the city, and I tell you, my dear Falal6y, we are going to have a fine time, and people will have to look out for us. But why should I instruct you ? You are not a baby now, it is time for you to use your senses. You see I am not your ill-wisher and teach you nothing but that is good for you and that will make you live in greater comfort. Your uncle Ermoldy gives you the same advice ; he had intended to write to you by the same messenger. We have discussed these matters quite often, while sitting under your favourite oak where you used to pass your time as a child, hanging dogs on the branches, if they did not Satirical Journals 339 hunt well for the rabbits, and whipping the hunters, if their dogs outran yours. What a joker you used to be when you were younger ! We used to split with laughter looking at you. Pray to God, my friend ! You have enough sense to get along nicely in this world. Don't get frightened, dear Falaley, all is not well in our house: your mother, Akulina Sid6rovna, is lying on her death-bed. Father Ivdn has confessed her and given her the extreme unction. It is one of your dogs that was the cause of her ailment. Somebody hit your Naletka with a stick of wood and broke her back. When she, my little dove, heard that, she fainted away, and fell down like dead. When she came to again, she started an inquiry into the matter, which so exhausted her that she came back scarcely alive, and had to lie in bed. Besides, she emptied a whole pitcher of cold water, which gave her a fever. Your mother is ill, my friend, very ill ! I am waiting every minute for God to take her soul away. So I shall have to part, dear Falaley, from my wife, and you from your mother and Nale"tka. It will be easier for you to bear the loss than for me : Naletka' s pups, thank the Lord ! are all alive. Maybe one of them will take after his mother, but I shall never have such a wife again. Alas, I am all undone ! How can I ever manage to look after all things myself? Cause me no more sorrow, but come home and get married, then I shall at least be happy to have a daughter-in-law. It is hard, my dear Falaley, to part from my wife, for I have got used to her, having lived with her for thirty years. I am guilty before her for having beaten her so often in her lifetime ; but how could it be other- wise? Two pots staying a long time together will get knocked a great deal against each other. Indeed it could not be otherwise: I am rather violent, and she is not yield- ing; and thus, the least thing gave occasion for fights. Thank the Lord! she was at least forgiving. Learn, my son, to live well with your wife; though we have had many a quarrel, yet we are living together, and now I am sorry for her. It 's too bad, my friend, the fortune-tellers cannot do your mother any good : there have been a lot of them here, 340 The Eighteenth Century but there is no sense in it, only money thrown away. And now I, your father, Trif6n, greet you and send you my bless- ing. My Darling Falal6y Trif6novich: What kind of tricks have you been playing there, darling of my heart ? You are only ruining yourself. You have known Pankrdtevich ere this, so why don't you take care of yourself? If you, poor wretch, got into his hands, he would maim you beyond mercy. There is no use denying it, Falal6y, he has a diabolical character, the Lord forgive me for saying so! When he gets into a temper, all my trying to soothe him does no good. When he begins to yell, it 's a shame to leave the holy images in the room. And you, my friend, just think what you have done! You have given his letter to be published! All his neighbours are now making fun of him: "A fine son you have! He is ridiculing his father." They say a great deal more, but who can know all that the evil-minded people say ? God help them, they have their own children to look to, and God will pay them their due. They always find fault with somebody else's children, and think that theirs are faultless: well, they had better take a closer look at their own children! Take good care of yourself, my friend, and don't anger your father, for the devil could not get along with him. Write him a kind letter, and lie yourself out of the affair: that would not be a great sin, for you would not be deceiving a stranger. All children are guilty of some misbehaviour, and how can they get along without telling their fathers some lie? Fathers and mothers do not get very angr}' with children for that, for they are of necessity their friends. God grant you, darling of my heart, good health ! I am on my death-bed ; so do not kill me before my time, but come to us at once, that I may have my last look at you. My friend, I am feeling bad, quite bad. Cheer me up, my shining light, for you are my only one, the apple of my eye, how can I help loving you ? If I had manj r children, it would not be so bad. Try to find me alive, my dear one: Denis Ivanovich Fon-Vizin 341 I will bless you with your angel, and will give you all my money which I have hoarded up in secret from Pankratevich, and which is for you, my shining light. Your father gives you but little money, and you are yet a young boy, and you ought to have dainty bits and a good time. You, my friend, are yet of an age to enjoy yourself, just as we did when we were young. Have a good time, my friend, have a good time, for there will later come a time when you will not think of enjoyment. My dear Falale"y, I send you one hundred roubles, but don't write father about it. I send it to you without his know- ledge, and if he found it out, he would give me no rest. Fathers are always that way: they only know how to be surly with their children, and they never think of comforting them. But I, my child, have the heart not of a father, but of a mother: I would gladly part with my last kopek, if that would add to your pleasure and health. My dear Falaley Trifonovich, my beloved child, my shining light, my clever son, I am not feeling well! It will be hard for me to go away from you. To whose care shall I leave you? That fiend will ruin you; that old brute will maim you some day. Take good care of yourself, my shining light, take the best care you can of yourself! Leave him alone, for you can't do anything with that devil, the Lord forgive me for saying so ! Come to our estate, my dear one, as soon as you can. Let me get a look at you, for my heart has the presentiment that my end has come. Good-bye, my dear one, good-bye, my shining light: I, your mother Akulina Sidorovna, send you my blessing and my humblest greeting, my shining light. Good-bye, my dove: do not forget me! Denis Ivanovich Fon-Vizin. (1744-1792.) Denis Fon-Vizin tells us in his Confession (given below) what his early education was. Even the Moscow University was filled with ignorant, corrupt teachers, and in the country the conditions were naturally much worse. Nor could it have been different in the early part of Catherine's reign. The older generation was steeped in ignor- ance and superstition, and the tipper classes, who carried Voltaire 34 2 The Eighteenth Century and liberalism on their lips, ranted of a culture of the heart, which was nothing else than an excuse for extreme superficiality, as some- thing superior to culture of the mind. Such a period is naturally productive of characters for comedy and satire. Fon-Vizin, who had the talent for satirical observation, was himself a product of the superficiality of his time. In his letters from abroad he assumed a haughty air of Russian superiority over matters French, German and European in general, aiding in the evolution of a sickly Slavophilism which a Russian critic has characterised as "subacid patriotism." Unfortunately for their originality, most of these attacks on the French and Germans are taken from French and German sources. Fon-Vizin wrote two comedies, The Brigadier and The Minor, both of which are regarded as classical. Neither the subjects nor the plots are original. They follow French plays ; but Fon-Vizin has so excellently adapted them to the conditions of his time, and has so well portrayed the negative characters of contemporary society, that the comedies serve as an historical document of the time of Catherine II. How true to nature his Ciphers, Beastlys, Uncouths and Briga- diers are may be seen from a perusal of contemporary memoirs and the satirical journals. These give an abundance of such material, and indeed Fon-Vizin has made ample use of them. As there were no positive characters in society, so the characters of his plays that stand for right and justice are nothing more than wordy shadows. In The Minor, of which the first act is here translated, the author gives a picture of the lower nobility, who had not yet outgrown the barbarism of the days preceding Peter's reforms, though anxious to comply, at least outwardly, with the imperative demands of the Government. Peter the Great had promulgated a law that all the children of the nobility must immediately appear to inscribe them- selves for service. These " minors" had to present a proof or certifi- cate that they had received instruction in certain prescribed subjects. Without that certificate they could not enter any service, or get married. Up to the time of Catherine II. there were issued laws dealing with such "minors." Mitrofdn, the "minor" of the play, has become the nickname for every grown-up illiterate son of the nobility. THE MINOR ACT I., SCENE I. MRS. UNCOUTH, MITROFAN, EREMYEEVNA t Mrs. Uncouth (examining Mitrofdrf s caftan). The caftan is all ruined. Ereruyeevna, bring here that thief Trfshka ! (Exit Eremylevna.') That rascal has made it too tight all Denis Iv^novich Fon-Vizin 343 around. Mitrofdn, my sweet darling, you must feel dread- fully uncomfortable in your caftan ! Go call father. (Exit Mitrofdn.*) SCENE 2. MRS. UNCOUTH, EREMYEEVNA, TRISHKA Mrs. Uncouth (to Trishka). You beast, come here. Did n't I tell you, you thief s snout, to make the caftan wide enough ? In the first place, the child is growing; in the second place, the child is delicate enough, without wearing a tight caftan. Tell me, you clod, what is your excuse ? Trishka. You know, madam, I never learned tailoring. I begged you then to give it to a tailor. Mrs. Uncouth. So you have got to be a tailor to be able to make a decent caftan ! What beastly reasoning ! Trishka. But a tailor has learned how to do it, madam, and I haven't. Mrs. Uncouth. How dare you contradict me! One tailor has learned it from another; that one from a third, and so on. But from whom did the first tailor learn ? Talk, stupid ! Trishka. I guess the first tailor made a worse caftan than I. Mitrofdn (running in). I called dad. He sent word he '11 be here in a minute. Mrs. Uncouth. Go fetch him by force, if you can't by kindness. Mitrofdn. Here is dad. SCENE 3. THB SAME AND UNCOUTH Mrs. Uncouth. You have been hiding from me! Now see yourself, sir, what I have come to through your indulgence! What do you think of our son's new dress for his uncle's betrothal ? What do you think of the caftan that Trishka has gotten up ? Uncouth (timidly stammering). A li-ittle baggy. Mrs. Uncouth. You are baggy yourself, you wiseacre! Uncouth. I thought, wifey, that you thought that way. Mrs. Uncouth. Are you blind yourself ? 344 The Eighteenth Century Uncouth, My eyes see nothing by the side of yours. Mrs. Uncouth. A fine husband the Lord has blessed me with! He can't even make out what is loose and what tight. Uncouth. I have always relied upon you in such matters, and rely even now. Mrs. Uncouth. You may rely also upon this, that I will not let the churls do as they please. Go right away, sir, and tell them to flog SCENE 4. THE SAME AND BEASTLY Beastly. Whom ? For what ? On the day of my betrothal ! I beg you, sister, for the sake of the celebration, put off the flogging until to-morrow, and to-morrow, if you wish, I '11 gladly take a hand in it myself. My name is not Taras Beastly, if I don't make every offence a serious matter. In such things my custom is the same as yours, sister. But what has made you so angry ? Mrs. Uncouth. Here, brother, I '11 leave it to you. Mi- trofan, just come here! Is this caftan baggy ? Beastly. No. Uncouth. I see now myself, wifey, that it is too tight. Beastly. But I don't see that. My good fellow, the caftan is just right. Mrs. Uncouth (to Trlshka). Get out, you beast! (To Eremyeevna.) Go, Eremyeevna, and give the child his break- fast. I am afraid the teachers will soon be here. Eremylevna. My lady, he has deigned to eat five rolls ere this. Mrs. Uncouth. So you are too stingy to give him the sixth, you beast ? What zeal ! I declare ! Eremylevna. I meant it for his health, my lady. I am looking out for Mitrofan Terntevich: he has been ill all night. Mrs. Uncouth. Oh, Holy Virgin ! What was the matter with you, darling Mitrofan ? Mitrofdn. I don't know what, mamma. I was bent with pain ever since last night's supper. Denis Ivanovich Fon-Vizin 345 Beastly. My good fellow, I guess you have had too solid a supper. Mitrofdn. Why, uncle! I have eaten hardly anything. Uncouth. If I remember rightly, my dear, you did have something. Mitrofdn. Not much of anything: some three slices of salt bacon, and five or six pies, I do not remember which. Eremylevna. He kept on begging for something to drink all night long. He deigned to empty a pitcher of kvas. Mitrofdn. And even now I am walking around distracted. All kinds of stuff passed before my eyes all night long. Mrs. Uncouth. What kind of stuff, darling Mitrofdn ? Mitrofdn. At times you, mamma, at others dad. Mrs. Uncouth. How so ? Mitrofdn. No sooner did I close my eyes, than I saw you, mamma, drubbing dad. Uncouth (aside). It is my misfortune, the dream has come to pass ! Mitrofdn (tenderly). And I felt so sorry. Mrs. Uncouth (angrily}. For whom, Mitrofdn ? Mitrofdn. For you, mamma: you got so tired drubbing dad. Mrs. Uncouth. Embrace me, darling of my heart! Son, you are my comfort. Beastly. I see, Mitrofdn, you are mother's son and not father's. Uncouth. I love him anyway as becomes a father: he is such a clever child, such a joker! I am often beside myself with joy when I look at him, and I can't believe that he is my own son. Beastly. Only now our joker looks a little gloomy. Mrs. Uncouth. Had I not better send to town for the doctor ? Mitrofdn. No, no, mamma. I '11 get well myself. I '11 run now to the dove-cot, maybe Mrs. Uncouth. Maybe God will be merciful. Go, have a good time, darling Mitrofdn. (Exeunt Mitrofdn and Ere- mytevna.} 34 6 The Eighteenth Century SCENE 5. MRS. UNCOUTH, UNCOUTH, BEASTLY Beastly. Why do I not see my fianc6e ? Where is she ? The betrothal is to be this evening, so it is about time to let her know that she is to be married soon. Mrs. Uncouth. There is time for that, brother. If we were to tell her that ahead of time, she might get it into her head that we are reporting to her as to a superior person. Al- though I am related to her through my husband, yet I love even strangers to obey me. Uncouth (to Beastly). To tell the truth, we have treated Sophia like a real orphan. She was but a baby when her father died. It is now half a year since her mother, who is related to me by marriage, had an apoplectic fit Mrs. Uncouth (as if making the sign of the cross). The Lord be with us ! Uncouth. which took her to the other world. Her uncle, Mr. Conservative, has gone to Siberia, and as there has been no news from him for some years we regard him as dead. Seeing that she was left alone, we took her to our village, and we watch her property like our own. Mrs. Uncouth. What makes you talk so much to-day, husband ? My brother might think that we took her to our house for our own interest. Uncouth. How could he think so? We can't move up Sophia's property to ours. Beastly. Even if her movable property has been removed, I won't go to law for that. I don't like the law courts, and I am afraid of them. No matter how much my neighbours have insulted me, no matter how much damage they have done me, I have never had any litigations with them. Rather than have trouble with them, I make my peasants suffer for the damages my neighbours do me, and that 's the end of it. Uncouth. That is so, brother. The whole district says that you are a great hand at getting work out of your peasants. Mrs. Uncouth. I wish, brother, you would teach us to do likewise, for since we have taken everything away from the Denis Ivanovich Fon-Vizin 347 peasants that they had, there is nothing left with them which we can carry off. It 's a real misfortune! Beastly. I don't mind, sister, giving you a lesson, only first marry me to Sophia. Mrs. Uncouth. Have you really taken a liking to the girl ? Beastly. No, it is not the girl I like. Uncouth. Then it is her adjoining villages ? Beastly. Not even her villages; but that which is to be found in her villages, and for which I have a great passion. Mrs. Uncouth. What is it, brother ? Beastly. I like the pigs, sister. Down our way there are some very big pigs: why, there is not one among them that if it stood up on its hind legs would not be a head taller than any of us. Uncouth. Now, brother, this is a wonderful family re- semblance. Our dear Mitrofan is just like his uncle: he has had the same passion for pigs ever since babyhood. He was only three years old when he would tremble with joy every time he saw a pig. Beastly. Truly wonderful ! All right: Mitrofan loves pigs because he is my nephew. There is some resemblance there. But why have I such a passion for pigs ? Uncouth. There must be some resemblance there too, that 's what I think. SCENE 6. THE SAME AND SOPHIA (Sophia enters holding a letter in her hand and looking cheerful J) Mrs. Uncouth (to Sophia). Why so merry, dear? What has made you so happy ? Sophia. I have just received some joyful news. My uncle, of whom we have not heard for a long time, whom I love and honour like my father, arrived in Moscow a few days ago. This is the letter I have just received from him. Mrs. Uncouth {frightened, angrily). What, Conservative, your uncle, is alive ? And you think it right to jest about his resurrection ? A fine story you have invented ! Sophia. Why, he never was dead. 348 The Eighteenth Century Mrs. Uncouth. He did not die! Why could he not have died ? No, madam, that is your invention. You are trying to frighten us with your uncle, that we might give you your liberty. You j udge like this : ' ' My uncle is a clever man ; he seeing me in other people's hands, will find a way of rescuing me." That 's what you are happy about, madam. But your joy is all in vain: of course, your uncle has never thought of rising from the dead. Beastly. Sister, but if he never died ? Uncouth. God be merciful to us, if he did not die. Mrs. Uncouth (to her husband}. How not dead ? You are talking nonsense. Don't you know that I have had people remember him in their prayers for the rest of his soul ? Is it possible my humble prayers have never reached heaven ? (To Sophia.} You let me have that letter! {Almost tears it out of her hand,} I will wager anything that it is some love letter, and I can guess from whom. It 's from that officer that was trying to marry you, and whom you were ready to marry yourself. Who is that rascal that dares hand you letters without telling me first about them ? I '11 get at him! That 's what we have come to: they write letters to girls! And girls know how to read ! Sophia. Read it yourself, madam : you will see that there can be nothing more harmless than that letter. Mrs. Uncouth. " Read it yourself !" No, madam! Thank the Lord, I have not been educated that way ! I may receive letters, but I order others to read them to me. ( To her hus- band.} Read it! Uncouth (looking at it for some time}. It 's more than I can read. Mrs. Uncouth. I see, they have educated you like a fair maiden. Brother, be so kind as to read it. Beastly. I ? I have never read a line since I was born ! God has saved me that annoyance. Sophia. Let me read it to you. Mrs. Uncouth. I know you will read it, but I don't trust you. There! Mitrofdn's teacher will soon be here, so I '11 tell him Denis Ivinovich Fon-Vizin 349 Beastly. So you have begun to teach your son reading ? Mrs. Uncouth. Oh, my brother! He has been studying these four years. It shall not be laid to our door that we are not giving Mitrofan an education: we pay three teachers for it. The deacon from Pokrov, Carouse, comes to him for reading and writing. Arikmethick he studies with an ex- sergeant, Cipher. They both come from town, which is only two miles from us. French and all the sciences he takes from a German, Adam Addmych Bluster. He gets three hundred roubles a year. We let him eat at table with us; our peasant women wash his linen; if he has to travel any- where, he gets our horses; at the table he always has a glass of wine, and at night a tallow candle, and Fonika fixes his wig for nothing. To tell the truth, we are satisfied with him, for he does not drive our child. I don't see, anyway, why we should not fondle Mitrofan as long as he is a minor. He will have to suffer enough some ten years hence, when serving the Government. You know, brother, some people have luck from their birth. Take our family of Uncouths: they get all kinds of advancements while lying softly on their sides. With what is our Mitrofan worse than they ? Ah, there is our dear guest. SCENE 7. THE SAME AND TRUTHFUL Mrs. Uncouth. Brother, I recommend to you our dear guest, Mr. Truthful; and to you, sir, I recommend my brother. Truthful. Am glad to make your acquaintance. Beastly. Very well, sir. What is your name ? I did not quite hear it. Truthful. My name is Truthful, so that you may hear it. Beastly. Where born, sir ? Where are your villages ? Truthful. I was born in Moscow, if you must know that, and my villages are in this province. Beastly. And may I ask you, I do not know your name and patronymic, are there any pigs in your villages ? Mrs. Uncouth. Now, stop, brother, asking about your pigs. We had better talk about our trouble. (To Truthful.} 35 The Eighteenth Century Listen, sir! By God's command we have taken this maiden upon our hands. She deigns to receive letters from her uncles: you see, her uncles write to her from heaven. Do us the kindness, sir, and read us this letter aloud. Truthful. Excuse me, madam, I never read letters without the permission of those to whom they have been addressed. Sophia. On the contrary, I beg you to do me the favour. Truthful. If you so order. (He reads.) 4 ' Dear niece ! My affairs have compelled me to live for some years away from my relatives, and the great distance has deprived me of the pleasure of hearing any news from you. I am now living in Moscow after having been for some years in Siberia. I am a living example that it is possible by work and honesty to gain some wealth. By these means, fortune smiling upon me, I have saved up enough to have ten thousand roubles yearly income " Beastly and the Uncouths. Ten thousand ! Truthful (reads). " Of which I make you, dear niece, my sole heiress " Mrs. Uncouth. You an heiress !) Uncouth. Sophia an heiress! \ (All together.) Beastly. Her an heiress ! Mrs. Uncouth (hastening to embrace Sophia). I congratu- late you, Sophia ! I congratulate you, my darling ! I am beside myself with joy ! Now you need a husband. I, I could not wish a better bride for my Mitrofan. That 's what I call a fine uncle! A real father! I always thought that God was taking care of him, that he was still alive. Beastly (stretching out his hand). Well, sister, let us settle it right away. Mrs. Uncouth (whispering to Beastly). Wait, brother, first we have to ask her whether she wants you. Beastly. What a question ! Or do you really want to re- port to her as to a superior person ? Truthful. Do you want me to finish the letter ? Beastly. What for ? Even if you were to keep on reading for five years you could not read out of it anything better than ten thousand. Denis Ivinovich Fon-Vizin 351 Mrs. Uncouth (to Sophia). Sophia, my darling! Come with me to my sleeping- room. I have some important mat- ter to talk to you about (leading Sophia ouf). Beastly. Pshaw! I see there is not much chance for a betrothal to-day ! SCENE 8. TRUTHFUL, UNCOUTH, BEASTLY, A SERVANT Servant (to Uncouth, out of breath). Sir, sir ! Soldiers have come ; they have stopped in our village. Uncouth. There is a misfortune ! They will ruin us com- pletely. Truthful. What frightens you so ? Uncouth. Oh, I have seen terrible things, and I am afraid to show up before them. Truthful. Don't be afraid. Of course, an officer is leading them, and he will not permit any insolence. Come, let us go to him. I am confident you are unnecessarily frightened. (Truthful, Uncouth and Servant exeunt.*) Beastly. They have all left me alone. I think I '11 take a walk in the cattle yard. End of Act I. AN OPEN-HEARTED CONFESSION OF MY ACTS AND THOUGHTS My parents were pious people, but as in our childhood they did not wake us for the morning service, there was a night service held in our house every church holiday, as also in the first and last weeks of Lent. As soon as I learned to read, my father made me read at the divine services. To this I owe whatever knowledge of Russian I possess, for, reading the church books, I became acquainted with the Slavic language, without which it is impossible to know Rus- sian. I am thankful to my father for having watched care- fully my reading: whenever I began to read indistinctly, he would say to me: " Stop mumbling! or do you imagine God is pleased with your muttering ? ' ' But more than that : 35 2 The Eighteenth Century whenever ray father noticed that I did not understand the passage that I had just read, he undertook the labour of ex- plaining it to me, in short, he showed endless care in my instruction. As he was not able to hire teachers of foreign languages for me, he did not delay, I may say, a day to place me and my brother in the University as soon as it was founded. Now I shall say something of the manner of instruction at our University. Justice demands that I should state at the start that the University of to-day is quite a different thing from what it was in my days. Both the teachers and students are of a different calibre, and however much the school was then subject to severe criticism, it now deserves nothing but praise. I shall relate, as an example, how the examination was conducted in the lower Latin class. The day before the examination we were being prepared. Here is what was done: our teacher came in a caftan that had five buttons, while his vest had only four. This peculiarity sur- prised me much, and I asked the teacher for the cause of it. " My buttons seem to amuse you," he said, " but they are the guardians of your honour and of mine: those on the caftan stand for the five declensions, and on the vest for the four conjugations. And now," he proceeded, as he beat the table with his hand, " be all attentive to what I have to say! When they shall ask you for the declension of some noun, watch what button I am touching: if you see me holding the second button, answer boldly ' The second declension.' Do similarly in regard to the conjugations, being guided by the buttons on my vest, and you will never make a mistake. ' ' That is the kind of an examination we had! O you parents who take pleasure in the reading of gazettes, when you find the names of your children mentioned in them as having received prizes for diligence, listen what I got a medal for! Our inspector had a German friend who was made a professor of geography. He had only three students. As this teacher was more stupid that our Latin teacher, he arrived at the examination in a full complement of buttons, Denis Ivanovich Fon-Vizin 353 and we were consequently examined without preparation. My companion was asked: "Where does the Volga flow to?" "Into the Black Sea," was his answer. The same question was put to my other schoolmate. " Into the White Sea," was his answer. Then they asked me the same ques- tion. "I don't know," I said with such an expression of simplicity, that the examiners unanimously voted to give me a medal. Now, I did not in the least earn this medal for any geographical knowledge, though I deserved it for an illustration of practical morals. However it may be, I owe the University a grateful recog- nition : I learned there Latin, and thus laid the foundation for some of my sciences. I also learned there some German, and especially acquired a taste for literary studies. A love for writing was developed in me very early in my childhood, and I practised for many years translating into Russian. At that time our director had taken it into his head to journey to St. Petersburg with a few of his students, in order to show the founder of the University the fruits of his school. I do not know how, but my brother and I were among the number of the chosen pupils. The director started for St. Petersburg in the winter with his wife and ten of us young- sters. This was the first, and consequently a difficult, jour- ney for me and my companions, but I must make a grateful acknowledgment of the kind attention we received from our director and which alleviated our hardships. He and his wife looked after us as after their children. When we arrived in St. Petersburg, my brother and myself stopped at the house of an uncle of ours. A few days later, our director presented us to the curator. This esteemed gentleman, whose deserts Russia must not forget, received us very kindly. He took hold of my hand and led me to a man whose appearance had attracted my respectful attention. That was the immortal Lomon6sov. He asked me what I had learned. "Latin," said I. Then he began to speak with great eloquence of the importance of the Latin lan- guage. VOL. I. 23. 354 The Eighteenth Century After dinner of the same day we were at Court, it being a reception day, but the Empress did not appear. I was won- der-struck by the magnificence of the Empress's palace. All around us was sparkling gold, a gathering of men in blue and red ribbons, a mass of beautiful women, an enormous orchestra, all that bewildered and blinded me, and the palace appeared to me to be the dwelling-place of a super- human being. Indeed, it could not have been otherwise, for I was then only fourteen years old, had never seen any- thing, and everything appeared to me new and charming. Having returned to the house, I asked my uncle whether they had often receptions at Court, to which he answered : "Almost every Sunday." I decided to stay in St. Peters- burg as long as possible, in order to see more of the Court. This desire was the result of curiosity and impulse : I wanted to enjoy the magnificence of the Court and hear agreeable music. This desire soon subsided, and I began to pine for my parents, whom I became impatient to see. The day I received letters from them was for me the pleasantest of all, and I went often to the post to ask for them. Nothing delighted me in St. Petersburg so much as the theatre, which I saw for the first time in my life. They were playing a Russian comedy, Henry and Pernilla, and I re- member it as if it happened to-day. I saw there Shumski, who so amused me with his jokes that I lost all sense of propriety and laughed as loud as I could. It is almost im- possible to describe the feelings which the theatre aroused in me. The comedy which I saw was quite stupid, but I looked upon it as the production of the greatest mind, and upon the actors as great people, whose acquaintance I regarded as the greatest happiness. I almost went insane when I found out that these actors frequented the house of my uncle, where I was living. After a little while I there became acquainted with our famous actor, Ivdn Afanasevich DmitreVski, an honourable, clever and cultured gentleman, whose friendship I am enjoying even now. Standing once in the pit, I struck up an acquaintanceship with the son of a distinguished gentleman, who had taken a Denis Ivanovich Fon-Vizin 355 fancy to my face. As soon as he received a negative answer to his question whether I knew French, he suddenly changed and became cold to me. He looked upon me as an ignor- amus and badly educated man, and began to make fun of me. When I noticed from his manner of speech that he did not know anything else but French, which he spoke badly, I made such a biting repartee, that he stopped his raillery, and invited me to his house; I answered politely, and we parted as friends. But I learned from this how necessary it was for a young man to know French; so I began to study the language in earnest, continuing at the same time the study of Latin, in which language I heard the lectures on logic by Professor Shaden, who was then rector. This learned man has the rare gift of lecturing and expounding so clearly that we all made palpable progress, and my brother and I were soon admitted as real students. All that time I did not stop practising translations from German into Russian; among other things I translated Seth, the Egyptian King^ but not very successfully. My knowledge of Latin was ex- ceedingly useful to me in my study of French. In two years I could understand Voltaire, and I began translating in verse his Alzire. That translation was nothing more than a youthful error, nevertheless there are some good verses in it. LETTERS TO COUNT P. I. PANIN, DURING HIS FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD MONTPELUER, November 22 (December 3), 1777. . . . I found this city (Leipsic) full of learned men. Some of these regard it as their chief desert that they are able to talk in Latin, which, by the way, five-year-old child- ren were able to do in the days of Cicero. Others soar in thoughts in the sky, and are ignorant of what goes on upon earth. Others again are strong in artificial logic, having an extreme absence of natural logic. In short, Leipsic proves beyond controversy that learning does not beget common sense. I left these pedants, and went to Frankfurt-on-the- Main. This city is celebrated for its antiquities, and is note- 35 6 The Eighteenth Century worthy from the fact that the Roman Emperor is chosen here. I was in the election room from which he issues to the people. But its antiquity consists merely in being old: all I saw there were four empty walls in an old building. They showed me also the famous so-called La Bulle d'Or of Emperor Charles IV., which was written in the year 1356, and I was also in the Imperial Archives. But it was hardly worth my while to climb up garrets and down cellars, in order to see the relics of a rude age. From Frankfurt I travelled through German principalities: every step a new principality. I saw Hanau, Mainz, Fulda, Sachsen-Gotha, Eisenach and a few other principalities of minor princes. I found the roads frequently not paved, but I had nevertheless to pay dearly for the pavement. When they pulled me out of a bog and asked pavement money of me, I had the cour- age to ask them : ' ' Where is it ? " To which they answered me that his Majesty, the reigning prince, had the intention of having the roads paved, but that at the present he was only collecting toll. Such justice in regard to strangers has led me to make my own conclusions in regard to their relations with their subjects, and I did not at all wonder when from every hut there came out a crowd of beggars and followed my carriage. . . . From here I went into France, and reached the famous city of Lyons. In this country the roads are very good; but in the cities the streets are so narrow and are so badly kept that I cannot understand how people with their five senses manage to live in such dirt. It is evident that the police does not interfere with it. To prove this I shall take the liberty of telling your Highness an occurrence. I was walking in the finest and largest street in Lyons (which, however, cannot compare with our by-streets), and saw in bright daylight burning torches and a crowd of people in the middle of the street. Being near-sighted, I naturally thought it was some elegant funeral. Upon approaching nearer out of curiosity, I saw how great my mistake was: Messrs. Frenchmen had simply stuck a pig and were singe- ing it in the middle of the street! The stench, dirt and a Denis Ivanovich Fon-Vizin 357 crowd of leisure people who were watching the operation compelled me to take another street. I have not yet seen Paris, so I do not know whether my olfactories will suffer there less; in any case, all the French cities which I have so far seen are badly off as to their cleanliness. PARIS, March 20 (31), 1778. . . . Voltaire's arrival in Paris produced the same effect on the people here as if a divinity had come down upon earth. The respect shown to him in no way differs from worship. I am confident that if his deep old age and ailments did not oppress him, and he wished to preach now some new sect, the whole nation would at once turn to him. Your Excellency will form your own opinion from what fol- lows whether one can come to any other conclusion from the reception the public gave him. When he arrived here, the poets who are devoted to him began to write poems in his honour, while those who hate him sent him anonymous satires. The first are printed, but not the other, for the Government has by a special rescript forbidden to print anything that might be prejudicial to Voltaire. This consideration is shown him as much for his great talents as for his advanced age. This man of eighty- five years has composed a new tragedy, Irene and Alexis Comnenus, which has been performed. Although it can by no means be compared to his former plays, yet the public received it with rapture. The author being ill, he was not present at the first presentation. It is only the first time yesterday that he has driven out: he was in the Academy, then in the theatre, where they purposely gave his new tragedy. As he drove out from his house, the carriage was accom- panied as far as the Academy by an endless throng of people who kept up applauding. All the academicians came out to meet him. He was seated in the president's chair and, waiving the customary voting, was elected by acclamation to be president for the April quarter. As he walked down the staircase and took his seat in the carriage, the populace 35 8 The Eighteenth Century demanded vociferously to take off hats. From the Academy to the theatre he was accompanied by the people's cheering. When he entered his box, the audience applauded repeatedly with indescribable rapture, and a few minutes later the oldest actor, Brisard, stepped into his box with a wreath which he placed on Voltaire's head. Voltaire immediately took the wreath off and with tears of joy spoke aloud to Brisard : ' ' Ah , Dieu ! vous voulez done me faire mourir ! ' ' The tragedy was played with much greater perfection than at any previous performance. At its conclusion there was a new spectacle. All the actors and actresses surrounded Voltaire's bust and adorned it with laurel wreaths. This homage was followed by the people's applause, which lasted nearly fifteen minutes. Then Madame Vestrice, who had played Irene, turned to- wards Voltaire and read some laudatory verses. To show their appreciation, the public demanded that the verses be read again, and they applauded wildly. As soon as Voltaire seated himself in his carriage, the people stopped the coach- man and cried: " Des flambeaux, des flambeaux!" When the torches were brought, they ordered the coachman to drive at a slow pace, and an endless crowd accompanied him to his very house with torches, crying all the time: " Vive Voltaire ! ' ' Voltaire has received many an ovation in his lifetime, but yesterday was, no doubt, the best day of his life, which, however, will soon come to an end. Your Ex- cellency will see how he now looks from his portrait which I here enclose and which is a very good likeness of him. Ermil Iv&novich Kostr6v. (1750-1796.) Kostr6v was the son of a peasant. He studied in a seminary and began to write verses early, first under the influence of Ix>mon6sov, in the pseudo-classic style, later, under the influence of Derzhdvin, he cultivated a simpler and better language. His chief services to Russian literature are his translations of Apuleius, Ossian, and the Iliad. The ode which is given here marks the turning-point in his manner of writing, and at the same time indicates how great was the change brought about by Derzhdvin's Felitsa (see p. 378) in Russian poetry. Ermil Ivanovich Kostr6v 359 LETTER TO THE CREATOR OF THE ODE IN PRAISE OF "FELITSA, THE KIRGIZ-KAYSAK PRINCESS" Singer, to whom with a gentle smile the Muse has lately brought from the Parnassian heights a wreath, I hanker for your friendship and union with you. Moscow is my habita- tion, you sing the Neva stream. But not the distant roads, nor mounts, nor hills, nor forests, nor rivers shall impede my zeal to you, which to Petropolis shall be borne, to issue in your breast and ears: not impossible to Muses is what the Muses will. Tell me, I pray, how without a lyre, nor violin, not even having saddled the Parnassian steed, you have sung so sweetly Felitsa's acts, and her crown's life-giving beams ? You evidently have walked all streets and byways on Pindus' heights and in the grassy vale of the pure Muses, and to glorify, console, make happy, amuse the Princess, you have discovered a new, untrodden path. Having discovered it, you ran it at will, and neither stump nor stone e'er tripped you, but all appeared to you a grassy mead, and your caftan was nowhere rent by thorns. Proclaiming the praises of the Princess, recounting the pleasures of the bashaws, you played the bagpipe, yet sang enticingly withal. Disdaining the evil conscience of the envious, you onward bore, which boldness seeing, Parnassus wound a wreath for you. Their flowing hair descending on their arms, disport- ing on their pink- white breasts and cheeks, the forms of fairy nymphs from the Neva rose; gently waving on the crests, they listened intent to you, and praised the beautiful innovation of your verse. In token of their heartfelt tribute, they clapped their hands in ecstasy, then disappeared into the crystal depths. By easy post Felitsa's praise was borne to Moscow, to the delight of all the hearts, and all who read have sung your praise, and arbiters of taste have wound a wreath for you. They have read it a hundred times, yet listen gladly, with attention, when someone in their presence reads it 360 The Eighteenth Century again, and cannot assuage their spirits, nor satisfy their captive ears, while listening to its sportive jests. Just so a garden, with charming shrubs and shade of trees, planted on a hill above a stream of limpid waters, though it be well known to us, though known the taste of every fruit therein, though familiar to us its every path, yet drawn by a mys- terious feeling, we hasten to walk in it once more, and turn our glances all about us, to discover something new, though we have seen it all before. Our ears are almost deaf from the vociferous lyric tones, and, meseems, 't is time to come down from the clouds, lest, forgetful of the law of equilibrium, and flying from the heights, one break his arms and legs: no matter what our endeavour be to rise on high, Felitsa's deeds will still be higher. She likes simplicity of style, so 't were better, treading that road in modesty, to raise our voice to her. Dwelling on Parnassus in union with the nymphs, I have thrummed the sonorous harp, while praising the Kirgiz- Kaysdk Princess, and have only earned cold praises. All lauded there my verses, flattered me, though themselves were but amused ; and now they have the honour in oblivion to lie: 't is evident high-soaring odes are out of fashion. Above us you have risen through your simplicity ! Write, as formerly, again a letter to your neighbour; you have well depicted his luxurious mind, how he invites a hungry mob to dinner, games and luxuries on the tables; or, loving Nature's beauties, sing of the crystal waters, as once you sang the Spring of Gr6benev. This spring, flowing through the valley, even now is pleasing to me : whenever I slaked my thirst, a ray of joy shone to me. But to you, who preside most wisely, leader of the Muses, their labours' judge, listening to their sweet thunderous music, to you this honour and praise is due, because, burn- ing with zeal and inventive of new paths, you labour to advance our native tongue. It is majestic, sweet and rich, thunderous, elate, liquid and strong, and great is your work of its perfection. Encouraged by you, the lovers of the sci- ences have with heartfelt zeal walked on the glorious path: Alexander Nikolaevich Radishchev 361 we see the fair Russian diction in their labours, and its pro- gress in him who has extolled you. I shall say it without hesitation: you emulate Minerva, and bring your rest as a sacrifice to the Muses, and the glory of your country is your pleasure and consolation. Your ex- ploits are enviable to men. With Felitsa's beloved, precious name, with Felitsa's praise and the laudation of her wise acts the beginning of these labours has been adorned, and has brought joy and rapture to its readers. Blessed is that beginning where her resplendent name appears, and the end is crowned with success. To him who thus has glori- fied Felitsa, and has given a new flavour to his verses, honour and glory from the depth of our hearts ! Alexander Nikolaevich Radishchev. (1749-1802.) In 1765 Catherine II. sent twelve young men to Leipsic to be edu- cated in the University ; among the number was Radishchev. He studied philosophy under Platner, and for his own amusement took a full course in medicine. Upon his return he was attached to the Kommerz-Kolleg, a kind of Department of Finance, where he dis- tinguished himself for his unexampled honesty and gained the love of its President, Count Voronts6v, whom he had the courage to op- pose in a decision at law, in order to save some innocent men from transportation to Siberia. When he was later put in charge of the Customs House of St. Petersburg, he discovered that the consider- able traffic with England demanded a knowledge of English, if he wished to dispense with a translator ; accordingly at the age of thirty he acquired the English language and began to read its literature, which exerted a great influence upon him. In 1790 he wrote his Journey from St. Petersburg to Moscow, which he distributed among his friends, though it had not been approved by the censor. This work, written in the style of Sterne's Senti- mental Journey, is not only remarkable as a piece of literature, but also as a political pamphlet. It attacks the institution of Russia in the light of the most advanced liberalism of France and North America. Radishchev advocated in no unmistakable terms the liberation of the serfs, almost half a century before Turge"nev. When Catherine II. read the book, she exclaimed : " He is a Martinist. He is worse than Pugache'v, he praises Franklin." Radishchev was banished to Siberia. There he devoted himself to literature, wrote his Ode to Liberty, which is the forerunner of all the poems of liberty 362 The Eighteenth Century by Rylye"ev, OgareV, Odoe"vski, and a few longer poems in a lighter vein. Emperor Paul pardoned him, and Emperor Alexander ad- vanced him to higher honours. When an acquaintance of his accused him of returning to his youthful ideals and warned him of subjecting himself to the danger of another banishment, he committed suicide in a moment of despondency. JOURNEY FROM ST. PETERSBURG TO MOSCOW DEPARTURE After having taken supper with my friends, I took my seat in the kibitka. The driver drove the horses at full gallop, as was his wont, and in a few minutes we were outside the city. It is hard to part, even for a short time, from those who have become necessary to us at every moment of our existence. It is hard to part, but happy is he who can part without smiling, for love or friendship is his consola- tion. You weep as you say ' ' good-bye ' ' ; but think of your return, and let your tears dry up at this thought, as dries up the dew before the face of the sun. Happy is he who weeps, hoping to be consoled ! Happy is he who sometimes lives in the future! Happy is he who lives in meditation! His existence is enriched; his joy is multiplied, and calm assuages the gloom of his pining, generating images of happiness in the mirrors of his contemplation. I lay in the kibitka. The tinkling of the post bell was monotonous to my ears, and finally brought to me beneficent Morpheus. The grief of my parting persecuted me in my deathlike state, and painted me to my imagination as for- lorn. I saw myself in a spacious vale which had lost all its amenity and greenness of leafage through the hot rays of the sun. There was not a spring to offer coolness, nor tree- shade to protect from the heat. I was a hermit, left in the midst of Nature! I shuddered. "Miserable man!" I sighed, " where are you ? What has become of all that has enticed you ? Where is all that has made your life agree- able? Is it possible that the pleasures which you have tasted are only an idle dream ? ' ' Luckily there was a deep rut in the road, and my kibitka, Alexander Nikolaevich Radishchev 363 getting into it, jostled me and woke me up. The kibitka stopped. I raised my head and saw three habitations in a barren spot. ' ' What is that ? " I asked my driver. " A post station." "Where are we?" " In Sofiya," and he unhitched the horses. SOFIYA All around me was silence. I was absorbed in contempla- tion and did not notice that the kibitka had been standing quite a while without the horses. My driver broke my meditation : " Master, father, some money for a drink! " This tax is illegal, but no one objects to paying it, in order that he may be able to travel at his ease ; the twenty kopeks I gave him were a good investment. Who has travelled by post knows that a passport is a precaution without which any purse, unless it be a general's, will have to suffer. I took it out of my pocket and went with it, as people sometimes go with the cross for their defence. I found the Post Commissary snoring. I touched his shoulder. " Whom does the devil drive so ? What a miserable habit to depart from the city at night ? There are no horses here, it 's too early yet. Go into the inn and drink tea, or go to sleep ! ' ' Having said that, the Commissary turned to the wall, and went to snoring again. What was I to do? I once more shook the Commissary by his shoulder. "What is the matter with you ? I told you there are no horses! " and, covering himself with the blanket, the Com- missary turned away from me. If the horses are all engaged, I thought to myself, then it is not right for me to disturb the Commissary's sleep. But if there are any horses in the stable ... I made up my mind I would find out whether the Commissary told the 364 The Eighteenth Century truth. I went into the yard, hunted up the stable and found some twenty horses in it. It is true, one could count the bones on them, yet they would have taken me to the next station. From the stable I returned to the Commis- sary, and shook him harder than before, for I felt I had a right to do so, having discovered that he had told a lie. He jumped up from his bed and without opening his eyes asked who had arrived. "I . . ." But coming to his senses, and noticing me, he said : " Young man, you are evidently in the habit of command- ing drivers of olden days, when they used to beat them with sticks. Well, that won't work now-a-days." The Commis- sary lay down angrily in his bed again. I had really a desire to treat him like one of those drivers when they were discovered cheating; but my generosity to the city driver caused the Sofiya drivers to hurry up and hitch the horses to the kibitka. Just as I was getting ready to commit a crime on the back of the Commissary, the bells were heard in the yard. I remained a good citizen, and thus twenty kopeks saved a peaceable man from an inquest, my children from an example of incontinence in anger, and I discovered that reason is a slave to impatience. The horses carried me away. The driver started a song which, as usual, was a doleful one. He who knows the tunes of Russian popular songs will admit that there is something in them that speaks of sadness of spirit. Nearly all the tunes of such songs are in the minor key. In this musical inclination of the popular ear one may find a solu- tion of the trend of his actions. In it one may discover the condition of the nation's soul. Look at a Russian! You will always find him lost in meditation. If he wants to drive away ennui, or, as he calls it, have a good time, he goes to the inn. In his intoxication he is impulsive, bold, quarrel- some. If anything takes place not to his liking, he at once starts a brawl or fight. A churl who goes into the inn with a downcast look and returns from it covered with blood from having had his ears boxed may throw a light on many an enigmatic point in Russian history. Alexander Nikolaevich Radishchev 365 My driver was singing. It was three o'clock in the morn- ing. As before the bell, so now his song put me to sleep: " O Nature! Having swathed man at his birth in the wind- ing-sheets of sorrow, dragging him all his life over the for- bidding crags of fear, ennui and sadness, you have given him sleep as a consolation. You fall asleep, and all is at an end ! Unbearable is the awakening to the unfortunate man. Oh, how acceptable death is to him! And if it is the end of sorrow. . . . All-kind Father! Wilt Thou turn away Thy look from him who ends his life in a manly way ? To Thee, the source of all goodness, this sacrifice is brought. Thou alone givest strength when creation trembles and is convulsed. It is the voice of the Father, calling His child unto Himself ! Thou hast given me life, to Thee I return it : upon earth it has become useless." TOSNi When I left St. Petersburg I thought I would find a very good road. All those who have travelled upon it after the Kmperor have thought so. It had been such, indeed, but only for a short time. The dirt which had been put upon the road in dry weather in order to make it even had been washed by the rains,' forming a swamp in the summer, and made it impassable. Fearing bad weather, I got out of the kibitka and went into the post station, intending to take a rest. In the room I found a traveller who was sitting behind a long, common peasant table in the nearer corner and was turning over some papers. He asked the Post Commissary to give him horses as soon as possible. To my question who he was, I learned that he was a pettifogger of the old style, and that he was going to St. Petersburg with a stack of torn papers which he was then examining. I immediately entered into a conversation with him, and here is what he said: " Dear sir, I, your humble servant, have been a Regis- trar in the Archives of the Estates, where I had an oppor- tunity to make good use of my position : by assiduous labour 366 The Eighteenth Century I have collected a genealogy, based on clear documentary proof, of many Russian families, and I can trace their princely or noble origin 'several centuries back. I can re- instate many a man in his princely dignity, by showing his origin from Vladimir Monom&kh, or even from Rurik. Dear sir," he continued, as he pointed to his papers, " all Great-Russian nobles ought to purchase my work, paying for it more than for any other wares. But with the leave of your High Birth, Noble Birth, or High and Noble Birth, for I do not know how to honour you, they do not know what they need. You know how the orthodox Tsar Fe6dor Aleksy6evich of blessed memory has injured the Russian nobility by doing away with the prefecture. That severe legislation placed many honourable princely and royal families on a level with the N6vgorod nobility. But the orthodox Emperor Peter the Great has entirely put them in the shade by his Table of Ranks. He opened the way to all for obtaining the title of nobility through military and civil service, and he, so to say, has trampled the old nobility in the dirt. Our Most Gracious Mother, now reigning, has confirmed the former decrees by her august Law of the Nobility, which has very much disquieted all our higher nobles, for the old families are placed in the Book of the Nobility lower than the rest. There is, however, a rumour that there will soon be issued a supplementary decree by which those families that can trace their noble origin two or three hundred years back will be granted the title of Marquis or something like it, so that they will have some distinguishing feature from the other families. For this reason, dear sir, my work must be acceptable to all the old nobility. But there are rascals everywhere. In Moscow I fell in with a company of young gentlemen to whom I pro- posed my work, in order to be repaid through their kindness at least for the paper and ink wasted upon it. But instead of kindness they heaped raillery upon me; so I left that capital from grief, and am on my way to St. Petersburg, where there is more culture." Saying this, he made a deep bow, and straightening him- Alexander Nikolaevich Radishchev 367 self up, stood before me with the greatest respect. I under- stood his thought, took something out of my purse and, giving it to him, advised him to sell his paper by weight to peddlers for wrapping paper, for the prospective marquisates would only turn people's heads, and he would be the cause of a recrudescence of an evil, now passed in Russia, of boast- ing of old genealogies. I suppose it is all the same to you, whether I travelled in summer or winter, especially since it is not uncommon for travellers to travel both summer and winter, starting out in a sleigh and returning in a wheel carriage. The corduroy road wore out my sides. I crawled out of the kibitka, and started on foot. While I was lying in the kibitka, my thoughts were directed to the immeasurableness of the world, and while my soul flitted away from the earth, it seemed easier to bear the jostling of the carriage. But spiritual exercises do not always distract our corporeality, and it was in order to save my sides that I went on foot. A few steps from the road I noticed a peasant who was ploughing his field. It was warm ; I looked at my watch : it was twenty minutes to one. I left the city on Saturday, so it was Sunday then. The peasant that was ploughing evid- ently belonged to a landowner that did not receive any tax from him. The peasant was ploughing with great care; evidently the field did not belong to the master. He was turning the plough with remarkable ease. " God aid you! " I said as I approached the ploughman, who did not stop but finished the furrow he had begun. " God aid you! " I repeated. " Thank you, sir! " said the ploughman as he cleaned the ploughshare and transferred the plough to a new furrow. " You are, of course, a dissenter, since you work on Sun- day." " No, sir, I make the correct sign of the cross," he said, and showed me his three fingers put together; " but God is 368 The Eighteenth Century merciful and does not want a person to starve, as long as he has a family and sufficient strength." " Have you not any time to work during the week, that you work on a Sunday, and at that in a great heat ? " " In the week, sir, there are six days, and we have to work for the manor six times a week, and in the evening we haul the hay from the meadows, if the weather is good; and on holidays the women and girls go to the woods to gather mushrooms and berries. God grant a rain this evening," he added as he made the sign of the cross. " Sir, if you have any peasants, they are praying for the same." " I have no peasants, my friend; and so nobody curses me. Have you a large family ? " ' ' Three sons and three daughters. My eldest is ten years old." " How do you manage to get enough grain, if you have only the Sundays to yourself ? " " Not only the Sundays, the nights are ours too. We need not starve, if we are not lazy. You see, one horse is resting; and when this one gets tired, I '11 take the other, and that 's the way I make my work count." " Do you work the same way for your master ? " " No, sir! It would be sinful to work the same way; he has in his fields one hundred hands for one mouth, and I have but two hands for seven mouths, if you count it up. If you were to work yourself to death at your master's work, he would not thank you for it. The master will not pay the capitation tax; he will let you have no mutton, no hempen cloth, no chicken, no butter. Our people are fortun- ate in those places where the master receives a rent from the peasant, particularly without a superintendent! It is true, some good masters ask more than three roubles for each soul, yet that is better than tenant labour. They are now getting in the habit of letting farms out to renters who, being poor, flay us alive. They do not give us our own time, and do not let us go out in the winter to work for ourselves, because they pay our capitation tax. It is a devilish idea to let one's peasants do work for somebody Alexander Nikolaevich Radishchev 369 else! There is at least a chance of complaining against a superintendent, but to whom is one to complain against a tenant?" " My friend! You are mistaken: the laws do not permit to torture people." "Torture, yes! But, sir, you would not want to be in my hide ! " In the meantime the ploughman hitched another horse to his plough and, bidding me good-bye, began a new furrow. The conversation with this agriculturist awakened a multitude of thoughts in me. Above all, I thought of the inequality of the peasant's condition. I compared the crown peasants with those of the proprietors. Both live in villages, but while the first pay a stated tax, the others have to be ready to pay whatever the master wishes. The first are judged by their peers; the others are dead to the laws, ex- cept in criminal matters. A member of society only then is taken cognisance of by the Government that protects him when he violates the social bond, when he becomes a crim- inal! That thought made all my blood boil. Beware, cruel proprietor! On the brow of every one of your peasants I see your condemnation ! Absorbed in these thoughts I accidentally turned my eyes to my servant, who was sitting in front of me in the kibitka and was shaking from side to side. I felt a sudden darkness come over me, which passed through all my blood and drove a burning feeling upwards and made it spread over my face. I felt so heartily ashamed of myself, that I wanted to cry. " In your anger," I said to myself, " you attack the cruel master who maltreats his peasants in the field ; and are you not doing the same, or even worse ? What crime did your poor Petrushka commit that you do not allow him to enjoy the comfort of our misfortunes, the greatest gift of Nature to the unfortunate man, sleep ? ' He receives his pay, his food and dress; I never have him whipped with a scourge or sticks.' O you kind man! You think that a piece of bread and a rag give you the right to treat a being that re- sembles you as a top ? You are merely boasting that you VOL. I. 24. 37 The Eighteenth Century do not very often whip it as it is whirling about. Do you know what is written in the first law of each man's heart ? ' If I strike anyone, he has the right to strike me also. ' Re- member the day when Petrushka was drunk and did not dress you fast enough ! Remember how you boxed his ears ! Oh, if he had then, drunk as he was, come to his senses, and had answered your question in a befitting manner! Who has given you the right over him ? The law ! Law ! And you dare besmirch that sacred name! Wretch! . . ." Tears flowed from my eyes, and in this condition the post horses brought me to the next station. Alexander Onisimovich Ablesimov. (1742-1783.) Ablesimov was a frequent contributor to several periodical publica- tions ; his contributions present no special interest, but he gained a great reputation by his comic opera The Miller, which, though it is an imitation of a foreign original, was the first play to introduce a popular element, taken directly from the life of the people. The public hailed this comedy as a new departure ; it was given to crowded houses twenty-seven times in succession, and a number of imitations appeared with the same element of sorcery and country life for their background. THE MILLER ACT I TTie stage represents on one side a forest, with small villages in the distant hills, and on the other a mill, and nearby a waggon with sacks. In front of it is a tree. SCENE I Miller (alone. He is planing a board and sings, only the song is without words and music. Then he says): What song is that? . . . Oh, yes: "How our night from midnight "... that 's it . . . (he begins to sing that tune, continuing his work). How our night from midnight, From midnight to white day . . . Alexander Onisimovich Ablesimov 371 What a downpour it has been, and now it has stopped ! (He sings again , and continues his song.} 'T was at the dawn, the early one, At the fall of the shining moon . . . How it did blow! I declare, it did blow; why, it almost tore my mill down. I would have been left with nothing. It has done some damage, thanks to the Lord, not much damage. Did I say not much damage ? Well, I have enough to do to fix it up. {Putting ike level to the board.) It '11 come out all right, and all will go well again. {Advanc- ing towards the orchestra.) I have to laugh every time I think of it; they say that a mill cannot exist without a wizard, and that a miller is n't just a man like anybody else: he is on speaking terms with the house-spirit, and the house- spirits live in their mills like devils . . . ha, ha, ha, ha ! What bosh ! Am I not a miller through and through ? I was born, brought up, and have grown old in the mill, and yet I have never laid my eyes on a house-spirit. Now, to tell the gospel truth, it 's just this: if you are a shrewd fel- low and a good hand at cheating, that sorcery business is a good thing. . . . Let them prattle what they please, but we earn our bread by our profession. Who by cheating makes a living, Him at once all call a gipsy, And you gain through gipsy dealings The reputation of a wizard. Even in that way the witches Make a living by deception. There 's a big lot of these rascals: Some of them bespeak the water, Others turn the sieve for people, And through such tricks make a living! Just like me, sinful man! . . . SCENE 2. FIUMO*N AND THE FORMER Miller (noticing him). Ah! I am getting a guest. I '11 earn a penny this day. (70 Filimdn.) Godspeed, young man! 37 2 The Eighteenth Century Filimdn. My respects, old man. Miller. Whence come you, whither tend you ? Filimdn. Not farther than my business takes me. Miller. Of j r our own will, or by compulsion ? Filimdn. I am looking for horses: my roan and grey have gotten away from me; they are fine horses, such fine horses. (Aside. ,) He is a fortune-teller: I '11 try my fortune with him. (To the Miller.') Say, old man, I want to ask you Miller. What is it you want? As you please, I am at your service. Filimdn. That 's good ! And I '11 pay you for it. Tell me my fortune: shall I find my horses ? Miller. Shall you find your horses ? Filimon. That 's it, old man. I am very anxious to find out about them. Miller. Now, how about that ; is there going to be any- thing ? (Stretches out his hand to him.} Filimdn. First tell me, old man, and then we '11 see. Miller (turns away from him, and angrily begins a song)\ Tell the fortune: As the guess is, So is the pay. Filimdn. But, old man, I expect to pay you. Miller. 'T is with a promise As with a chair: If you sit and do not eat, Then your belly is not full. Filimdn. Believe me, I am not lying to you. Miller. If it 's so, All this talking is in vain; Take out your purse, Don't talk uselessly, Count out the money. (Puts out his hand, and looks in his eyes.) Alexander Onisimovich Ablesimov 373 Filimdn. Well, I don't care: I '11 give you some money in advance. Miller. Only this ? Filimdn. It will do for the present; what more do you want? Miller (aside). You won't get off with less than half a rouble. Filimdn. What are you going to tell me now ? Miller. What is it now, early in the morning ? Filimdn. Not very late yet, the sun has not yet set behind the woods. Miller. Turn three times around, towards the sun. Filimdn. What for ? Miller. That 's what I need in my sorcery. Do as you are told! Filim6n. To please you, I '11 turn around. (Turns around once.} Miller. Once more, towards the sun. Filimdn (turning around}. Here it is, and towards the sun. Miller. Now stand against this tree. (Filimdn is about to start for the tree, but the Miller says) : No, no, stop ! Have you a kerchief? Filimdn (taking out his handkerchief}. Here it is. Miller. Close your eyes tight, and tie your kerchief over them. That 'sail right! Now listen: you must stand quiet, and don't move from the spot, nor speak a word to anyone, while I go and see the elder. Filimdn (does all the Miller commands him to do). But sup- pose someone should come and ask me why I am standing there, and why my eyes are tied up ? Miller. Not a word to anybody ; but you may grumble to yourself. Filimdn. May I sing a song ? Miller. You will frighten all. No, you must not. Filimdn (aside). What is it all going to be ? Miller. Stand still and don't move! 374 The Eighteenth Century Ippolit F6dorovich Bogdan6vich. (1743-1803.) Ippolit Bogdan6vich, the son of a minor official, entered the mathematical school connected with the Senate ; at fourteen years of age he began to study at the University and to write verses under the guidance of Kheraskov. He then served as secretary of legation in Saxony, and later was connected with the Government Archives. His reputation rests only on his F*syche, which is a paraphrase in verse of I^a Fontaine's Les amours de Psycht et de Cupidon, itself an imitation of an episode in Apuleius's Golden Ass. It is a mock- heroic in the style of Maykov's Elisty (see p. 263), and was im- mensely popular at the end of the eighteenth century, and even Dmitriev, Pushkin and Byelinski found pleasure in reading it. There are traces in his poems of an intimate acquaintance with the Russian popular literature, from which are introduced many characters. The poem found so many admirers because it was an expression of the re- verse side of the philosophy of the eighteenth century, with its frivolity and superficiality. PSYCHE FROM BOOK I The goddess donned her ancient gala dress, and seated in the shell, as they paint in pictures, glided over the waters on two large dolphins. Cupid, bestowing his imperious look, bestirred all Nep- tune's court. The frisky waves, perceiving Venus, swam after her, replete with merriment. The watery tribe of Tritons issues to her from the abysses of the waters: one dives all about her and pacifies the wanton waves; another, whirling in the depths, gathers pearls at the bottom and drags forth all the secrets of the sea to place before her feet. One, struggling with the monsters, forbids them to disport nearby; another, briskly leaping into the coachman's seat, scolds loudly those he meets and orders them to stand aside ; he proudly holds the lines, and steers his path away from rocks, and crushes impudent monsters. One, with trident, precedes her on a whale and drives all far out of the way; he casts about him his angry looks and, that all may know his will, loudly blows a coral horn ; another, having come to the goddess from distant regions, bears before her a bit from Ippolit Fedorovich Bogdan6vich 375 a crystal mountain instead of a mirror. This sight refreshes her pleasure and the joy upon her brow. " Oh, if this sight," proclaims he, " for ever remained in this crystal ! ' ' But the Triton's wish is vain : that vision will disappear like a dream, and nothing will remain but the stone, and in the heart a fatal flame which will consume him. Another has joined the retinue of the goddess, and protects her from the sun and cools the sultry beam by sending upwards a stream of water. Meanwhile sirens, sweet singers, sing verses in her honour, and mingle fiction with truth in their attempt to extol her : some dance before her; others, anticipating her wishes, are present to serve her, and with fans waft coolness to the goddess; others, borne on the crests, breathe heavily in travelling post from fields, beloved by Flora, and bring her flowery wreaths. Thetis herself has sent them for small and great services, and wishes only that her husband stay at home. The weather being most favourable, the storms dare not annoy her, and only the Zephyrs are free to fondle Venus. FROM BOOK II Psyche awoke from her sleep not sooner than midday past, nay, one hour after midday. All serving-maids came to dress the princess, and brought with them forty garments and all that with them went. For that day Psyche designated the simplest of all gowns, for she hastened as soon as possible to inspect the marvels of the palace. I shall follow in the princess's track and shall present the mansion to you, and describe all in detail that could amuse her. At first Psyche visited the rooms, nor left a corner in them where she did not pass a while; thence to the con- servatory and to the balcony; thence on the veranda, and down, and out, to inspect the house from all sides. A bevy of girls were slow in following her; only the Zephyrs were fast enough, and they guarded her, lest running she should fall. Two or three times she inspected the house from within and from without. Meanwhile the Zephyrs and 37 6 The Eighteenth Century Cupids pointed out the architecture to her and all the mar- vels of nature, which Psyche was anxious to inspect. She wished to see all, but knew not where to begin, for her eyes were distracted now by one thing, now by another. Psyche would fain have looked at everything, but running around so much, she soon became fatigued. While resting herself, she looked at the statues of famous masters: those were likenesses of inimitable beauties, whose names, in prose and verse, in various tales, both short and long, reign immortally among all the nations and through all the ages: Calisto, Daphne, Armene, Niobe, Helen, the Graces, Angelica, Phryne, and a multitude of other god- desses and mortal women appeared before her eyes in lifelike form, in all their beauty arrayed along the wall. But in the middle, and right in front of them, Psyche's image stood on an elevated pedestal and surpassed them all in beauty. Looking at it, she herself fell to wondering, and, beside her- self with wonderment, stopped: then you might have per- ceived another statue in her, such as the world had never seen. Psyche would have stayed there a long time, looking at her image that held sway over her, if her servants who were with her had not pointed out in other places, for the pleasure of her eyes, other likenesses of her beauty and glory : up to her waist, her feet, her lifelike form, of gold, of silver, of bronze, of steel, her heads, and busts, and medals; and else- where mosaic, or marble, or agate represented in these forms a new splendour. In other places Apelles, or the god of artists who with his hand had moved Apelles' s brush, had pictured Psyche in all her beauty, such as no man could have imagined before. But does she wish to see herself in pictures? Here, Zephyrs bring her Pomona's horn and, strewing flowers be- fore her, disport with her in vales; in another, she with mighty buckler in her hands, dressed as Pallas, threatens from her steed, with her fair looks more than with her spear, and vanquishes the hearts through a pleasant plague. There stands Saturn before her: toothless, baldheaded and Gavriil Romanovich Derzhavin 377 grey, with new wrinkles on his old face, he tries to appear young : he curls his sparse tufts of hair, and, to see Psyche, puts on his glasses. There, again, she is seen like a queen, with Cupids all around her, in an aerial chariot : to celebrate fair Psyche's honour and beauty, the Cupids in their flight shoot hearts; they fly in a large company, all carrying quivers over their shoulders, and, taking pride in her beauti- ful eyes, raise their crossbows and proclaim war to the whole world. There, again, fierce Mars, the destroyer of the law of peace, perceiving Psyche, becomes gentle of manner: he no longer stains the fields with blood, and finally, forgetting his rules of war, lies humbled at her feet and glows with love to her. There, again, she is pictured among the Pleasures that precede her everywhere and by the invention of varied games call forth a pleasant smile upon her face. In another place the Graces surround the princess and adorn her with various flowers, while Zephyr, gently wafting about her, paints her picture to adorn the world with; but, jealous of licentious glances, he curbs the minds of the lovers of licen- tiousness, or, perchance, shunning rebellious critics, hides in the painting the greater part of her beauties, though, as is well known, before Psyche those beauties of themselves appear in the pictures. In order that various objects, meeting her eyes, should not weary her, her portraits alone were placed upon the wall, in simple and in festive gowns, or in masquerade attire. Psyche, you are beautiful in any attire: whether you be dressed as a queen, or whether you be seated by the tent as a shepherdess. In all garments you are the wonder of the world, in all you appear as a goddess, and but you alone are more beautiful than your portrait. Gavriil Romanovich Derzhavin. (1743-1816.) Derzhavin was born near Kazan, deriving his descent from a Tartar Murza, and passed his childhood in the east, in the Government of Orenburg. His early education was very scanty. In his fourteenth year his mother hastened with him to Moscow to enter him for future service as the son of a nobleman ; but, her means being ex- hausted, she returned with him to Kazdn, where she placed him in 37 8 The Eighteenth Century the newly opened Gymnasium. Even here the lack of good teachers precluded his getting any thorough instruction ; his only positive gain was a smattering of German, which was to help him later in ac- quainting himself with the productions of the German Muse. In 1762 he entered the regiment of the Transfiguration (Preobrazhe'nski) as a common soldier. Whatever time he could call his own in the crowded and dingy barracks in which he passed eight years of his life he devoted to reading and to imitations of Russian and German verse. In 1772 he was made a commissioned officer, and was em- ployed to quell the Pugache"v rebellion. It was only in 1779 &** Derzhdvin began to write in a more inde- pendent strain ; one of the best odes of this new period is his Monody on the Death of Prince Meshcherski. But the one that gave him his greatest reputation was his Felitsa, with which began a new epoch in Russian poetry. Lomonosov, Sumar6kov, Tredyak6vski, and a num- ber of minor poets had flooded Russian literature with lifeless odes in the French pseudo-classic style, written for all possible occasions, and generally to order. Just as a reaction was setting in against them in the minds of the best people, Derzhdvin proved by his Felitsa that an ode could possess other characteristics than those sanctioned by the French school. In 1782 he occupied a position in the Senate under the Procurator-General Vydzemski. He had an exalted opinion of Catherine, whom he had not yet met, and he spoke with full sincerity of her in his ode. The name Felitsa was suggested to him by the princess in her moral fable (see p. 276 et seg.). The chief interest in the ode for contemporary society lay in the bold attacks that Der- zhdvin made on the foibles of the dignitaries. Its literary value con- sists in the fact that it was the first attempt at a purely colloquial tone of playful banter, in a kind of poetic composition formerly characterised by a stilted language, replete with Church-Slavic words and biblical allusions. Numerous are the references made by the poets of the day to the Singer of Felitsa (see p. 358 et seq.) ; they all felt that Derzhdvin had inaugurated a new era, that the period which had begun with Lomon6sov's Capture of Khotln was virtually over. Catherine made Derzhdvin Governor of O16netsk, and later of Tamb6v ; but neither in these high offices, nor later, when Paul ap- pointed him Chief of the Chancery of the Imperial Council, and Alexander I. made him Minister of Justice, was he successful. His excitable temperament, combined with a stern love of truth which brooked no compromise, made him everywhere impossible. Of the many productions which he wrote after Felitsa, none gained such wide popularity as his Ode to God. Though parts of it bear strong resemblance to similar odes by Klopstock, Haller, Brockes, and to passages in Young's Night Thoughts, yet the whole is so far superior Gavriil Romanovich Derzhavin 379 to any of them that it soon was translated into all European lan- guages, and also into Japanese ; there are not less than fifteen ver- sions of it in French. Derzhavin lived to hear Pushkin recite one of his poems and to proclaim him his spiritual successor. The follow- ing translations of Derzhaviu's poems in English are known to me : God, On the Death of Meshcherski, The Waterfall, The Lord and the Judge, On the Death of Count Orlov, Song (The Little Bee '), in Sir John Bowring's Specimens of the Russian Poets, Part I.; To a Neighbour, The Shipwreck, Fragment, ib., Part II.; To God, The Storm, in William D. Lewis's The Bakchesarian Fountain, Philadel- phia, 1849; The Stream of Time, in J. Pollen's Rhymes from the Russian ; Drowning, by N. H. Dole ; Ode to the Deity, by J. K. Stallybrass, in The Leisure Hour, London, 1870, May 2 ; Ode to God, by N. H. Dole, in The Chautauquan, vol. x ; On the Death of Meshcherski, in C. E. Turner's Studies in Russian Literature, and the same in Fraser's Magazine, 1877. ODE TO THE DEITY O Thou infinite in being ; Living 'midst the change of all; Thou eternal through time's fleeing; Formless Three-in-one withal ! Spirit filling all creation, Who hast neither source nor station; Whom none reach, howe'er they plod; Who with Thine existence fillest, Claspest, mouldest as Thou wiliest, Keepest all ; whom we call God ! Though the lofty mind could measure Deepest seas, and count the sand, Of the starry rays the treasure, Thou no number hast, no strand ! Highest souls by Thee created, To Thy service consecrated, Ne'er could trace Thy counsels high; Soon as thought to Thee aspireth, In Thy greatness it expireth, Moment in eternity. 380 The Eighteenth Century Thou didst call the ancient chaos From eternity's vast sea: On Thyself, ere time did ray us, Thou didst found eternity. By Thyself Thyself sustaining, From Thyself unaided shining, Thou art Light light flows from Thee ; By Thy words all things creating, Thy creation permeating, Thou wast, art and aye shalt be. All existence Thou containest In Thee, quick' nest with Thy breath; End to the beginning chainest; And Thou givest life through death. Life as sparks spring from the fire, Suns are born from Thee, great sire: As, in cold clear wintry day, Spangles of the frost shine, sparkling, Turning, wavering, glittering, darkling, Shine the stars beneath Thy ray. All the million lights, that wander Silent through immensity, Thy behests fulfil, and squander Living rays throughout the sky. But those lamps of living fire, Crystals soaring ever higher, Golden waves in rich array, Wondrous orbs of burning ether, Or bright worlds that cling together, Are to Thee as night to day. Like a drop in sea before Thee Is the firmament on high : What 's the universe of glory, And before Thee what am I ? In yon vast aerial ocean Gavriil Romanovich Derzhavin 381 Could I count those worlds in motion, Adding millions to them aught I could fancy or decipher, By Thy side is but a cipher; And before Thee I am naught ! Naught ! And yet in me Thou rayest, By Thy gift and through Thy Son: In me Thou Thyself portrayest, As in one small drop the sun. Naught ! Yet life I feel throughout me, And, content with naught about me, Upward fly with eager heart. That Thou art, my soul supposes, Tries, and with this reas'ning closes: " Sure I am, hence Thou too art." Yes, Thou art all nature tells me; Whispers back my heart the thought; Reason now to this impels me : Since Thou art, I am not naught ! Part of Thine entire creation, Set in nature's middle station By Thine order I abide ; Where Thou endest forms terrestrial And beginnest souls celestial, Chains of beings by me tied. I 'm the link of worlds existing, Last high grade of matter I, Centre of all life subsisting, First touch of divinity. Death to dust my body sunders: In my mind I wield the thunders. I 'm a king, a slave to Thee: I 'm a worm, a god! Whence hither Came I, wonderful ? Oh, whither ? By myself I could not be. 382 The Eighteenth Century Thine am I, Thou great Creator, Outcome of Thy wisdom sole ; Fount of life, blest conservator; Of my soul the king and soul! Needful to Thy just decreeing Was it that my deathless being Pass to Thee through death's abyss: That my soul, in body vested, Wend, by death refined and tested, Father, to Thy deathlessness. Traceless One, unfathomable ! Now I cannot see Thy face: My imagining 's too feeble E'en Thy shadow here to trace; But, if we must sing Thy glory, Feeble mortals, to adore Thee In a worthy attitude, We must rise to Thee to wreathe Thee, Lost in distance far beneath Thee, And shed tears of gratitude. Translated by J. K. Stallybrass, in The Leisure Hour, London, 1870, May 2. MONODY ON PRINCE MESHCHERSKI ' O iron tongue of Time, with thy sharp metallic tone, Thy terrible voice affrights me : Each beat of the clock summons me, Calls me and hurries me to the grave. Scarcely have I opened my eyes upon the world, Ere Death grinds his teeth, And with his scythe, that gleams like lightning, Cuts off my days, which are but grass. 1 Alexander Ivanovich MeshcheVski was the president of the St. Petersburg magistracy, and later served in the Chief Customs Chancery. Both he and his friend Perfilev, mentioned at the end of the monody, led a life of luxury. Gavriil Romanovich Derzhavin 383 Not one of the horned beasts of the field, Not a single blade of grass escapes, Monarch and beggar alike are food for the worm. The noxious elements feed the grave, And Time effaces all human glory; As the swift waters rush towards the sea, So our days and years flow into Eternity, And empires are swallowed up by greedy Death. We crawl along the edge of the treacherous abyss, Into which we quickly fall headlong: With our first breath of life we inhale death, And are only born that we may die. Stars are shivered by him, And suns are momentarily quenched, Each world trembles at his menace, And Death unpityingly levels all. The mortal scarcely thinks that he can die, And idly dreams himself immortal, When Death comes to him as a thief, And in an instant robs him of his life. Alas! where fondly we fear the least, There will Death the sooner come; Nor does the lightning-bolt with swifter blast Topple down the towering pinnacle. Child of luxury, child of freshness and delight, Meshche"rski, where hast thou hidden thyself ? Thou hast left the realms of light, And withdrawn to the shores of the dead ; Thy dust is here, but thy soul is no more with us. Where is it ? It is there. Where is there ? We know not. We can only weep and sob forth, Woe to us that we were ever born into the world ! They who are radiant with health, Love and joy and peace, Feel their blood run cold 384 The Eighteenth Century And their souls to be fretted with woe. Where but now was spread a banquet, there stands a coffin : Where but now rose mad cries of revelry, There resounds the bitter wailing of mourners; And over all keeps Death his watch, Watches us one and all, the mighty Tsar Within whose hands are lodged the destinies of a world ; Watches the sumptuous Dives, Who makes of gold and silver his idol-gods; Watches the fair beauty rejoicing in her charms; Watches the sage, proud of his intellect; Watches the strong man, confident in his strength; And, even as he watches, sharpens the blade of his scythe. O Death, thou essence of fear and trembling! Man, thou strange mixture of grandeur and of nothingness! To-day a god, and to-morrow a patch of earth: To-day buoyed up with cheating hope, And to-morrow, where art thou, Man ? Scarce an hour of triumph allowed thee Ere thou hast taken thy flight to the realms of Chaos, And thy whole course of life, a dream, is run. Like a dream, like some sweet vision, Already my youth has vanished quite. Beauty no longer enjoys her potent sway, Gladness no more, as once, entrances me, My mind is no longer free and fanciful, And all my happiness is changed. 1 am troubled with a longing for fame ; I listen ; the voice of fame now calls me. But even so will manhood pass away, And together with fame all my aspirations. The love of wealth will tarnish all, And each passion in its turn Will sway the soul and pass. Avaunt, happiness, that boasts to be within our grasp ! Gavriil Romanovich Derzhavin 385 All happiness is but evanescent and a lie: I stand at the gate of Eternity. To-day or to-morrow we must die, Perfilev, and all is ended. Why, then, lament or be afflicted That thy friend did not live for ever ? Life is biit a momentary loan from Heaven: Spend it then in resignation and in peace, And with a pure soul Learn to kiss the chastening rod. From C. E. Turner's Studies in Russian Literature, and the same in Eraser's Magazine, 1877. FELITSA ' Godlike queen of the Kirgiz-Kaysa'k horde, 3 whose incom- parable wisdom discovered the true path for the young Tsar- eVich Khlor, by which to climb the high mountain where grows the rose without prickles, where virtue dwells that cap- tivates my soul and my mind ! Oh, teach me how to find it! Instruct me, Felitsa, how to live voluptuously, yet justly; how to tame the storm of passions, and be happy in the world. Your voice enthuses me, your son guides me, but I am weak to follow them. Disturbed by worldly cares, I control my- self to-day, to-morrow am a slave of my caprices. You do not emulate your Murzas, 8 and frequently go on foot; the simplest food is served at your table. You disdain your rest, and read and write by the tallow dip, and from your pen flows bliss to all the mortals. 4 Nor do you play cards, like me, from morning until morning.* You do not care overmuch for masquerades, and do not 1 See Catherine II.'s Prince Khlor, p. 280. 8 Catherine had some villages in the Government of Orenburg, near the settlements of the Kirgiz-Kaysak horde, hence the name given her by Derzhdvin. 3 Tartar chiefs, but courtiers are meant here. 4 Through the promulgation of her laws. * Derzhdvin was much addicted to gambling in his early life, and had even tried to mend his fortune by cheating. 386 The Eighteenth Century set your foot into a club. You keep old customs and habits, and make no Don Quixote of yourself. You do not saddle the steed of Parnassus, 1 do not attend the stances, to see spirits,' do not go to the East ' from your throne; but, walk- ing on the path of humility, your gracious soul passes an even tenor of useful days. But I sleep until noon, smoke tobacco and drink coffee. I change the work-days into holidays, and live in a whirl of chimerical thoughts: I now take booty from the Persians, now direct my arrows to the Turks; now, imagining myself to be the Sultan, I make the world tremble with iny looks; or, suddenly attracted by a sumptuous garment, I hasten to the tailor for a new caftan. 4 Or I am at a sumptuous feast, where they celebrate in my honour, where the table sparkles with its silver and gold, where there are a thousand different courses, here the famous Westphalian bacon, there slices of Astrakhan fish, there stand the pilau and the cakes, I drink champagne after my waffles and forget everything in the world 'midst wine, sweetmeats and perfumes. Or, 'midst a beautiful grove, in an arbour, where the fountain plashes, by the sound of a sweet- voiced harp, where the zephyr scarcely breathes, where everything inclines to luxury, and entices the mind to joy, and the blood becomes now languid, now flows warm, inclining upon a velvet divan, I rouse the tender feelings of a young maiden, and inspire her heart with love. Or, in a magnificent tandem, in a gilded English carriage, I drive with a dog, a fool, or friend, or fair maiden to the Swings, or stop at the taverns to drink mead; or, when I get tired of that, for I am inclined to change, fly, with my cap posed jauntily, on a mettled steed. 1 Catherine was not successful as a versifier. 'She loved neither Masons nor Martinists, who were a kind of precursors of the modern spiritualists. s Name of a Masonic lodge. *The reference is to Pote"tnkin, his dreams of conquering India and Persia, his foppery, his sumptuous feasts. Gavriil Romanovich Derzhavin 387 Or I delight my soul with music and singers, the organ and flute, or boxing and the dance. 1 Or, dropping all care of business, go on the chase, and take pleasure in the bark- ing of the hounds 3 ; or, on the banks of the Neva, enjoy at night the sound of horns and the rowing of agile oarsmen.* Or, staying at home, pass my time playing ' ' Old Maid ' ' with my wife; or we climb together into the dove-cot, or, at times, play Blindman's Buff with her, or svayka, 4 or have her examine my head; or I love to pore over books, to en- lighten my mind and heart, that is, I read Pulicane and J5ovo," or yawn and fall asleep over the Bible. Such are my debauches, Felitsa! But the whole world resembles me, no matter if one passes for a sage : every man is a living lie. We travel not by the paths of light, we run after the whims of pleasure. 'Twixt the Indolent and the Choleric," 'twixt vanity and vice, one seldom finds the straight road to virtue. Suppose we have found it! How are we weak mortals not to blunder, where even Reason stumbles and follows after passions, where learned ignoramuses bedim our heads as the mist bedims the wanderers ? Temptation and flattery dwell everywhere, and luxury oppresses all the pashas. Where, then, dwells virtue ? Where grows the rose without prickles ? It becomes you alone, O Empress, to create light from darkness, dividing chaos harmoniously in spheres, to firmly unite them by a common bond; you alone can bring forth concord out of discord, and happiness out of violent passions : 1 Characterisation of A. G. Orl6v. P. I. P&nin. 'Allusion to S. K. Naryshkin, who had introduced wind instru- ments, where each player played but one note. 4 A game which consists of throwing a large nail into a ring. 1 Famous popular novels much in vogue in all Europe ; the latter is the English Bevys of Hamptoun ; the allusion is here to the rude manners of Prince Vydzemski. I^entyag and Bryuzga of Catherine's Prince Khlor, by whom she meant Pote"mkin and Vydzemski. 388 The Eighteenth Century thus the sailor, crossing the sea, catches the gale in his sails and safely guides his ship. You alone hurt not, nor injure an}'one; though you may connive at stupidity, you tolerate no mean act; you treat peccadillos with condescension. You do not choke people, as the wolf chokes the sheep, but you know their worth: they are subject to the will of kings, but more to righteous God who lives in their laws. You judge soundly of merits, and mete out honour to the deserving: you deem him not a prophet who merely makes rhymes. And as for that entertainment of the mind, the honour and glory of good caliphs, the lyric strain to which you condescend, poetry is pleasing to you, acceptable, soothing, useful, like a refreshing lemonade in summer. Rumour tells of you that you are not in the least haughty, that you are pleasant in business and in jest, agreeable in friendship and firm ; that you are indifferent to misfortune, and so magnanimous in glory that you refused to be called " Wise." ' Again, they justly say that one may always tell you the truth. This, too, is an unheard-of thing and worthy of you alone: you permit the people boldly to know and think all,* openly or in secret; nor do you forbid them to say of you what is true or false; and you are always prone to forgive those crocodiles, the Zoiluses of all your benefactions. Rivers of joyful tears stream from the depth of my heart. Oh, how happy the people must be there with their fate, 1 In 1767 the Senate and deputies, who had been invited to present a project for a new code of laws, proposed a title for the Empress " Great, Most Wise, and Mother of the Country," but she declined it. 'This and the following lines refer to the reign of Empress Anna, when the least inattention to the minutest details of Imperial pre- rogatives brought about the severest persecution : it was sufficient not to empty a beaker which was drunk to her health, or to scratch out or correct her name in a document, or to drop a coin with her picture upon it, in order to be immediately denounced to the secret police. Then follows the reference to the ice palace in which the marriage of the Court fool, Prince Golitsyn, was celebrated ; the other Court fools of the day were the Princes Volk6nski and Apraksin. Gavriil Romanovich Derzhavin 389 where a meek, peaceful angel, clad in porphyry splendour, wields the heaven-sent sceptre! There one may whisper conversations and, without fearing punishment, at dinners not drink the health of kings. There one may erase Felitsa's name in the line, or care- lessly drop her portrait on the ground. There they do not celebrate preposterous weddings, and steam people in ice baths, and pull the mustaches of dignitaries; princes do not cackle like sitting hens, nor favourites laugh loud at them and smear their faces with soot. You know, O Felitsa, the rights of men and kings. While you enlighten the manners, you do not turn men into fools. In your moments of rest you write fables for instruction and teach the alphabet to Khlor: " Do, no wrong, and you will cause the bitterest satirist to become a hated prevaricator." You are ashamed to be called great, lest you be feared and hated: it becomes only a wild she-bear to tear animals and suck their blood. Need one have recourse to the lancet, unless in extreme fever, when one can get along without it ? And is it glorious to be a tyrant, a great Tamerlane in cruelty, where one is great in goodness, like God ? Felitsa's glory is the glory of a god who has calmed strife, who has covered, dressed and fed the orphaned and the poor; whose radiant eye emits its light to fools, cowards, ungrateful people and the just, and enlightens alike all mor- tals, soothes, cures the sick, does good for good's sake; Who has given the liberty to travel to other lands, has permitted his people to seek gold and silver; who makes the waters free, and does not prohibit cutting down the woods; who orders to weave, and spin, and sew; who, freeing the mind and the hands, orders to love commerce and the sciences, and to find happiness at home ; Whose law and hand distribute favours and justice. An- nounce, wise Felitsa, where is the villain separated from the honest man ? Where does old age not go a-begging, and merit find its bread ? Where does revenge not drive any- one ? Where dwells conscience with truth ? Where shine virtues ? if not at your throne ? 39 The Eighteenth Century But where does your throne shine in the world ? Where do you flourish, celestial branch ? In Bagdad, Smyrna, Cashmir ? Listen : wherever you may live and my praises reach you, think not that I wish a hat or caftan for them. To feel the charm of goodness is for the soul a wealth such as even Croesus did not possess. I pray the great prophet that I may touch the dust of your feet, that I may enjoy the sweet stream of your words and your look. I entreat the heavenly powers that they extend their sapphire wings and invisibly guard you from all diseases, evils and ennui, that the renown of your deeds may shine in posterity like stars in the heavens. FROM "THE WATERFALL" Lo ! like a glorious pile of diamonds bright, Built on the steadfast cliffs, the waterfall Pours forth its gems of pearl and silver light: They sink, they rise, and sparkling cover all With infinite refulgence; while its song, Sublime as thunder, rolls the woods along, Rolls through the woods, they send its accents back, Whose last vibration in the desert dies: Its radiance glances o'er the watery track, Till the soft wave, as wrapt in slumber, lies Beneath the forest shade ; then sweetly flows A milky stream, all silent, as it goes. Its foam is scattered on the margent bound, Skirting the darksome grove. But list! the hum Of industry, the rattling hammer's sound, Files whizzing, creaking sluices, echoed come On the fast-travelling breeze ! Oh no, no voice Is heard around but thy majestic noise! When the mad storm-wind tears the oak asunder, In thee its shivered fragments find their tomb; When rocks are riven by the bolt of thunder, Gavriil Romanovich Derzhavin 391 As sands they sink into thy mighty womb : The ice that would imprison thy proud tide I,ike bits of broken glass is scattered wide. The fierce wolf prowls around thee there it stands Listening, not fearful, for he nothing fears: His red eyes burn like fury-kindled brands, Like bristles o'er him his coarse fur he rears; Howling, thy dreadful roar he oft repeats, And, more ferocious, hastes to bloodier feats. The wild stag hears thy falling waters' sound, And tremblingly flies forward, o'er her back She bends her stately horns, the noiseless ground Her hurried feet impress not, and her track Is lost among the tumult of the breeze, And the leaves falling from the rustling trees. The wild horse thee approaches in his turn: He changes not his proudly rapid stride; His mane stands up erect, his nostrils burn, He snorts, he pricks his ears, and starts aside; Then rushing madly forward to thy steep, He dashes down into thy torrents deep. From Sir John Bo wring's Specimens of the Russian Poets, Part I. THE STORM As my bark in the restless ocean Mounts its rough and foaming hills, Whilst its waves in dark commotion Pass me, hope my bosom fills. Who, when warring clouds are gleaming, Quenches the destructive spark ? Say what hand, what safety's beaming, Guides through rocks my little bark ? Thou, Creator, all o'erseeing, In this scene preserv'st me dread! 39 2 The Eighteenth Century Thou, without whose word decreeing Not a hair falls from my head ! Thou in life hast doubly blest me, All my soul to Thee 's revealed, Thou amongst the great hast placed me, Be 'midst them my guide and shield! From W. D. Lewis's The Bakchcsarian Fountain. THE STREAM OF TIME ' The stream of time, with onward sweep, Bears off men's works, all human things, And plunges o'er Oblivion's steep Peoples and kingdoms with their kings. If for a space amidst the swirl The lyre of trumpet some sustain, They 're swept at last in ceaseless whirl, And none escape Fate's common main. From John Pollen's Rhymes from the Russian. Yuri Aleksandrovich Neledinski-Meletski. (1752-1829.) After finishing his education in the University of Strassburg, Neledinski occupied various posts in the army and with legations. In 1800 he was made a Senator. He distinguished himself in litera- ture by his simple, deep-felt songs, two of which, given below, have become enormously popular. His other poems and translations from French authors are now forgotten. Sir John Bowring has translated his " Under the oak-tree, near the rill," "To the streamlet I'll repair," and " He whom misery, dark and dreary"; the latter is the same as Lewis's " He whose soul from sorrow dreary." SONG To the streamlet I '11 repair, lyook upon its flight and say : ' ' Bear, O fleeting streamlet, bear All my griefs with thine away ! " 1 The last verses Derzhdvin wrote. Ytiri Neledinski-Meldtski 393 Ah, I breathe the wish in vain! In this silent solitude f Counted is each throb of pain: Rest is melancholy's food. Waves with waves unceasing blend, Hurrying to their destiny: E'en so thoughts with thoughts, and tend All alike to misery. And what grief so dark, so deep As the grief interred within, By the friend, for whom I weep, All unnoticed, all unseen ? Yet, could I subdue my pain, Soothe affection's rankling smart, Ne'er would I resume again The lost empire of my heart. Thou, my love, art sovereign there ! There thou hast a living shrine: I^et my portion be despair, If the light of bliss be thine. Ix>ved by thee, oh, might I live, 'Neath the darkest, stormiest sky: 'T were a blest alternative! Grief is joy, if thou be nigh. Every wish and every pray'r Is a tribute paid to thee : Every heart-beat there, oh there, Thou hast mightiest sovereignty. To thee, nameless one ! to thee Still my thoughts, my passions turn ; 'T is through thee alone I see, Think, and feel, and breathe, and burn. 394 The Eighteenth Century If the woe in which I live Ever reach thy generous ear, Pity not, but oh, forgive Thy devoted worshipper! In some hour of careless bliss Deign my bosom's fire to prove; Prove it with an icy kiss, Thou shalt know how much I love ! From Sir John Bowring's Specimens of the Russian Poets, Part I. STANZAS He whose soul from sorrow dreary, Weak and wretched, naught can save, Who in sadness, sick and weary, Hopes no refuge but the grave; On his visage Pleasure beaming Ne'er shall shed her placid ray, Till kind fate, from woe redeeming, Leads him to his latest day. Thou this life preservest ever, My distress and my delight ! And, though soul and body sever, Still I '11 live a spirit bright; In my breast the heart that 's kindled Death's dread strength can ne'er destroy, Sure the soul with thine that 's mingled Must immortal life enjoy. That inspired by breath from heaven Need not shrink a mortal doom, To thee shall my vows be given In this world and that to come. My fond shade shall constant trace thee, And attend in friendly guise, Still surround thee, still embrace thee, Catch thy thoughts, thy looks, thy sighs. Mikhail Nikitich Muravev 395 To divine its secret pondering, Close to clasp thy soul 't will brave, And if chance shall find thee wandering Heedless near my silent grave, E'en my ashes then shall tremble, Thy approach relume their fire, And that stone in dust shall crumble, Covering what can ne'er expire! From W. D. Lewis's The Bakchesarian Fountain. Mikhail Nikitich MuravSv. (1757-1807.) Muravev was an alumnus of the Moscow University, and early dis- tinguished himself for his intimate knowledge of the ancient and many modern languages. In 1785 he became the instructor of Alex- ander and Constantine, and when the first ascended the throne, MuraveV was made Senator, and later Curator of the Moscow Univer- sity. He not only did much for the cause of education in Russia, but himself educated a new generation of writers, among them Batyushkov ; through his efforts Karamzln was made historiographer, and the Archives were opened to him. In his prose and poetry, Muravev was himself a follower of the pseudo-classic school, with an addition of sentimentalism, through Karamzin's influence. In his classicism, however, he differs from all his contemporaries in that he drew directly from the ancient sources, with which he was in- timately acquainted. Sir John Bowring translated MuraveVs To the Goddess of the Neva, Boleslav, and " She bent her head, and her tears that fell." TO THE GODDESS OF THE NEVA Glide, majestic Neva! Glide thee, Decked with bright and peaceful smiles; Palaces are raised beside thee, 'Midst the shadows of the isles. Stormy Russian seas thou bindest With the ocean by the grave Of our glorious Tsar thou windest, Which thy graceful waters lave. 39 6 The Eighteenth Century And the middle-ocean's surges All thy smiling naiads court; While thy stream to Paros urges, And to Lemnos' classic port. Hellas' streams, their glory shaded, See the brightest memories fade ; Glassy mirrors how degraded ! Dimmed by Kislar Aga's shade. While thy happier face is bearing Ever-smiling images, On thy busy banks appearing Crowds in gaiety and peace. Thames' and Tagus' gathering prizes, Spread their riches o'er thy breast, While thy well-known banner rises, Rises proudly o'er the rest. In thy baths what beauties bathe them, Goddesses of love and light; There Erota loves to swathe them In the brightest robes of night. Cool thy smiling banks at even, Cool thy grottoes and thy cells, Where, by gentle breezes driven, Oft the dancing billow swells. Then thou gatherest vapours round thee, Veil'st thee in thy twilight dress; Love and mirth have now unbound thee Yield thee to thy waywardness. Thou dost bear the dying over, Weary of this earthly dream ; And with awful mists dost cover All the bosom of the stream. Vasili Vasilevich Kapnist 397 With thy car thou troublest never The calm silence of the deep ; Sirens dance around thee ever, Laughing o'er thy quiet sleep. Peaceful goddess ! Oft the singer Sees thee in his ecstasy, On the rock he loves to linger, Sleepless, then he meets with thee. From Sir John Bowring's Specimens of the Russian Poets, Part II. Vasili Vasilevich Kapnist. (1757-1824.) Kapnist, the son of a brigadier, entered the army as a corporal in 1771, and was made a commissioned officer in 1775, but he soon re- tired to his native village of Obukbovka in the Government of Kiev, which he later described in the manner of Horace. He was elected a Representative of the Nobility of his district, later (upon his return to St. Petersburg), became a member of the Academy, and rose to many other honours. He early distinguished himself by translations and imitations of Horace, in which he devoted a closer attention to perfect form than any of his contemporaries, so that, but for a some- what antiquated language, he is read with pleasure even at the present time. His chief reputation with his contemporaries was earned by the comedy The Pettifoggery, which had a phenomenal success, and was only superseded by Griboye'dov's Intelligence Comes to Grief and. G6gol's The Revizbr. Like all the great comedies of Russia, The Pettifoggery deals with the negative sides of social life, and lays bare the corruption of officialdom. The plot of the play is as follows : Pettifog devises a plan by which he is to get hold of the property of Squareman. The latter is named in his certificate of birth Theodotos ; his father left his estate to this Theodotos, but he naming himself Deodatus (Bogddn), Pettifog argues before the judges that Deodatus is another unlawful holder of that estate, and that it ought to revert to himself, as a distant relative of the deceased man. To make his case sure he bribes the judges, Gurgle, Snare, Gladly and Wordy, and the Procurator Grab and Secretary Talon, and sues for the hand of Sophia, the daughter of the Presiding Judge Case- twister. All, however, ends well, for Pettifog is denounced to the Senate and put in gaol, and the judges are turned over to the criminal court, while Squareman marries Sophia, his old sweetheart. The verses at the end of Act III., Scene 6, "Take, you'll learn the 39 8 The Eighteenth Century art with ease," went like wild-fire through all Russia, and became the byword for the large host of bribers. Sir John Bowring has translated his On Julia's Death, also reprinted in F. R. Grahame's The Progress of Science, Art and Literature in Russia. FROM "THE PETTIFOGGERY" ACT III., SCENE 6. FEKLA, SOPHIA, ANNA, CASETWISTER, PETTIFOG, GURGLE, SNARE, GLADLY, WORDY, GRAB, TALON AND SLY (tipsy, playing cards) Talon. They have picked me clean. Gurgle. Well! We are not picking your own feathers. Pettifog. My dear friend, always grab the jack-pot ! Talon. A well-born man grabs all in splendid style. Wordy (to Pettifog}. Your intimate has been flaying us. Pettifog. That 's proper. (To Sly.} You had better rise. ( To Casetwister. ) Will you not let him mix a punch for us ? He is a great hand at it. Casetwister. Very well. Gurgle. That 's right, for the young beauty has been watering us as from a trough. . . . Sly (walking up to Anna). There is some brandy in the basket. Ftkla. His goose is cooked. Pettifog. That's so. Casetwister. Whose? Pettifog. Mine. Gurgle. That accursed Theodotos has done it all. Gladly (to Grab, who has been looking into his cards). Leave my ca-ca-ca Grab {putting his hand on his mouth}. Stop your cawing. Wordy. Say, Sly, stop courting her. Casetwister. Anna, why have you run away from us ? You had better serve us the new punch; we will be obliged to you. Fekla (to Anna). Hurry up. (Anna serves to the guests punch and wine, while Fekla gives her privately some signs : the guests are getting drunk.} Vasili Vasilevich Kapnist 399 Snare. Oh, oh, we are getting there ! Pettifog. Eh? Wordy (pointing to Sly). Ask him. Sly. Sir, the trouble is, it 's all gone. Pettifog. Keep it up; here is the wherewithal (throws a purse to him). Gurgle. The trouble is all with Theodotos. Pettifog. It is easy for you to have your fun with Theo- dotos; but it 's I who am having the trouble with him. Casetwister. What of it ? If it is true that through con- spiracy Deodatus has gotten away with Theodotos's property, there is a law for such a case. Talon. I have already given the order to find the laws that cover the case. Casetwister. I suppose there are some statutes ? Talon. I,ots of them, sir. Wordy. And also some decrees ? Talon. There are. Gurgle. And, of course, there must be a special ukase. Talon. There are several. Grab. But clearest of all it is in the Institutes; you will find it in the chapter where . . . about it Snare. Rather dark. Wordy. It 's an ace and a jack. Casetwister. And then we may apply the law of false pre- tences ? Talon. Of course, we may, sir ! It fits the case. Gurgle. And we bring the Reglement in accord with the Institutes. . . . Talon. Then all will agree with the above-mentioned ukase. Gurgle. That 's it. You see, you can easily pass sentence. Casetwister. Theodotos is out of the question. Deodatus is certainly a villain; so we will take Theodotos's property and give it where it belongs. That 's my opinion. Gurgle. Mine too. Snare. And mine. 400 The Eighteenth Century Wordy. And mine. Gladly. A-a-and mine. Grab. I agree with that unanimous opinion. Pettifog. Thank you all. Casetwister. 'T is not hard to pick the laws. Anna (aside, as she picks up the cards on the ground}. And I will pick the cards. Casetwister. Where is the punch ? Ftkla. Anna ! Be quick about it, and serve them often all around, and ask their favour. Gurgle. Oh, we will soon ask hers. Casetwister. Let 's have a song. Wordy. Let 's throw away the cards: the queen has for- saken me. Snare. You deal with a heavy hand. Casetwister (to Grab}. Dear Procurator ! You have a good voice : give us a song ! Grab. Most gladly, but I have no voice. Casetwister. The best way you can. Gurgle. We will sing the refrain. Grab (sings). Take, you '11 learn the art with ease! Take whatever you can seize ! God for this your hands did make, That you may take ! {All repeat: Take, take, take!) (Sophia shuts her ears and goes away.} ACT IV., SCENE 6. CASETWISTER, FEKLA AND TALON Casetwister {to Talon}. But hear, my dear. The rumour must be false that some meddler has denounced us to the Senate for taking bribes and for deciding wrongly cases at law. Talon. I declare ! What bad luck is that ? Casetwister. I could not find out all. But you, my friend, tell me in truth what case it was we decided so wrongly that we did not cover our tracks ? I can't think of any. Vasili Vasilevich Kapnist 401 Talon (scratching his spine). Even if I were to go to con- fession, I could not think of any. F6kla. But that 's impossible. Casetwister. I beg you, wife, leave us alone! We know affairs better than you. F6kla. Indeed, I know as well as you. Is it not my busi- ness to receive things and look after them ? But may the wrath of the Lord strike me on the spot, if my right hand knows what my left hand takes. Casetwister (to Talon}. Say: it just occurs to me that there was quite a disturbance about the note whose endorsement I ordered to have scratched. Talon. O sir, there is no cause for your worry there. I myself did the scratching. The defendant suspected the plaintiff of changing the endorsement. You decided the case properly according to the laws, and ordered the note to be destroyed. F&kla (to Casetwister). Well, you have done no more wrong there than I. Talon. Besides, you did not scratch the note, but only clean paper. Ftkla. Then where is your guilt ? What sin is there in scratching mere paper ? None at all. Casetwister. So much the better. Talon. There is something else that occurs to me. Do you remember the lawsuit for Simple's estate? Pettifog, who had really nothing to do with the case and had forgot- ten the name of Simple in the lawsuit, contrived cunningly to sue Trickster, who had also not the slightest right to the estate. We did not bother about finding out whose the vil- lage in question was, and without further investigation, in the absence of Simple, disposed of the lawsuit by adjudging another's property to the contending parties, which they proceeded at once to divide among themselves. I can't im- agine what Simple is going to say about it. Casetwister. Let him say whatever he pleases, since he has paid so little attention to it. Why should we worry about him now? We are the judges. 'T is our duty to know VOL. I. 26. The Eighteenth Century only that which is presented for our consideration on paper. What right have we to know that the estate under conten- tion does not belong to the contending parties, but to some- i one else ? We should have to have some written proof of that; in absence of the same, we simply must decide a lawsuit between two parties strictly according to the laws. We cannot help it if both were contending for something that did not belong to them. OBUKHOVKA At peace with my neighbours and relatives, at peace with my conscience, in love with my beloved family, I here with my joys alone measure the stream of quiet days. My cosey house with straw-thatched roof is all I want, neither too low, nor too high ; there is a nook in it for friend- ship, and indolence has forgot to put a lock on the door, to notabilities unknown. By a mount from the north protected, it stands upon a grassy hill, and looks into groves and distant meadows, while Psel, winding like a serpent, babbles as it tends to- wards the mills. Nearby, the favourite child of nature, a vast shadowy forest, surrounds it on all sides with its thick tree-tops, with- out encroachment on the free expanse. Before it, and on a small eminence, art, to please our eyes, having given a gentle slope to abrupt mounds, has on a modest elevation raised a modest temple to moderation. Moderation, O heavenly friend, be ever my companion ! You lead men to happiness; but your altar, not known to all, is hidden from the boastful rich. You have taught me from earliest youth not to seek honour nor gold, without pinions not to fly upwards, and in the glowworm not to show the light to the wonderment of the world. With you, the dearest one to me in the world, I treasure my fate; whithersoever I glance with you, in every object I discover a new charm. Vasili Vasilevich Kapnist 403 As I walk down the hill, the arbour covered by the dense shade of trees calls the tired one, through the forest that bends into a vault, to rest, and mirrors itself in the crystal stream below. Coolness reigns here for ever and refreshes the feelings and the mind, while the gentle, incessant murmur of the im- petuous waterfall induces sleep amidst sweet thoughts. There suddenly twenty wheels begin to turn, and circle hastens after circle; diamonds, opals, hyacinths, rain down from gleaming bows, while pearls beat underneath in clouds. Thus the vision of happiness moves the passions, and with them the whole world is in motion. Fortunate he who gets away from them, for they crush all, tear all in pieces that passes under their millstone. I^et us go, before it grows dark, to rest upon the nearby island; a covered way leads to it, where the rays of the sun dare not glide through the dark foliage. There I shall sit down under a,rnossy elm, leaning against a mighty trunk. Alas, not long, upon a hot day, will its leafy top carpet for me a hospitable shade ! Already it has inclined its brow upon the water that has undermined the steep bank; already it looks into the gloomy depth, and soon, in stormy weather, it will fall with up- turned roots into the water. Thus in the world all is carried away by the stream of time amidst an eternal strife ; thus ancient altars have fallen ; thus kingdoms and kings have fallen, with the pillars of their thrones. But to disperse painful thoughts, let us walk the path to the forest-covered hill where Phoebus with brilliant beam reflects from the zenith a mighty shade. I see a modest plain with a hedge of crimson bushes: there Flora, the tender mother of the gardens, has scattered her basket full of fragrant flowers. Farther off, in the realm of Pomona, fruit burdens the trees; beyond is the vineyard of Bacchus, where, filled with nectar juice, gleam amber clusters. Is it possible to picture all the beauties of nature, and all 404 The Eighteenth Century its charm ? To weld there the distance with the horizon, to adorn here the vales with flocks, and nap it with the golden harvest ? No, no ! Abandon the vain endeavour ! Already the sun has disappeared behind the mountain; already above the ethereal azure, 'twixt clouds, twinkle bright stars and glisten on the waves of the river. I ascend the hill. The golden moon has swum out on a gentle cloud, and, glinting through the bluish cirrus, leaves behind it a gleaming path above the liquid glass. Oh, how dear that place is to me when the satellite of the night comes, in all her beauty, to weld with the dream of a pining soul the remembrance of bright days ! ON JULIA'S DEATH The evening darkness shrouds The slumbering world in peace, And from her throne of clouds Shines Luna through the trees. My thoughts in silence blend, But gathered all to thee: Thou moon ! the mourner's friend, Oh, come and mourn with me! Upon her grave I bow, The green grave where she lies: Oh, hear my sorrows now, And consecrate my sighs! This is her ashes' bed, Here her cold relics sleep, Where I my tears shall shed, While this torn heart can weep. O Julia! Never rose Had half the charms of thee ! My comfort, my repose, Oh, thou wert all to me ! Adrian Moysevich Grib6vski 405 But thou art gone, and I Must bear life's load of clay, , And pray, and long to die, Though dying day by day. But I must cease to sing, My lyre all mute appears. Alas ! Its plaintive string Is wetted with my tears. Oh! Misery's song must end, My thoughts all fly to thee : Thou moon ! The mourner's friend, Oh, come and mourn with me ! From Sir John Bowring's Specimens of the Russian Poets, Part II. Adrian MoysSevich Grib6vski. (1766-1833.) Grib6vski was a Little-Russian by birth. In 1784 he was secretary to Derzhavin, the poet, who was then Governor of O16netsk. Then he served under Pote'mkin, and after his death in 1791 he entered the service of Count Zubov, Catherine's favourite. In 1795 he was Catherine's Secretary of State. L/ike so many Russian Memoirs of the eighteenth century, Grib6vski's Memoirs not only throw light on contemporary events, but are of great importance for a correct ap- preciation of the literature of the time. What Grib6vski reports of the simplicity of Catherine's private life forms the subject of Der- rhavin's FeUtsa (see p. 385 et seq.). FROM HIS "MEMOIRS" The Empress's [Catherine II.] manner of life was of late years the same: In the winter she resided in the large Win- ter Palace, in the middle story, above the right, smaller entrance. Her own rooms were few. Upon ascending a small staircase, one entered into a room where, for the im- mediate dispatch of the Empress's orders, there stood behind a screen a writing table with writing material for the secre- taries of state and other officers. This room faced a small court, and from it you passed into the boudoir, with its windows on the Palace Square. Here stood a toilet table. 406 The Eighteenth Century Of the two doors in this room, the one to the right led into the diamond room, the other, to the left, into the sleeping- room, where the Empress generally received her reports. From the sleeping-room one passed straight into the interior boudoir, and to the left into the study and mirror room, from which one way led into the lower apartments, and the other, over a gallery, into the so-called Neighbouring House. In these apartments the Empress lived until spring, but sometimes she removed earlier to the Tauric Palace, which had been built by Prince Pote"mkin on the bank of the Nevd. The main building of this latter palace was only one story high, on purpose, it seems, that the Empress should not be annoyed by staircases. Here her rooms were larger than in the Winter Palace, especially the study in which she received the reports. In the first days of May she always went in- cognito to Tsarskoe Sel6, and from there she returned, also incognito, in September to the Winter Palace. Her apart- ments in Tsarskoe Sel6 were quite large and tastefully fur- nished. All know the magnificent gallery in which the Empress frequently took a walk, particularly on Sundays when the park was filled with a large crowd of people that used to come down from St. Petersburg. She received the reports in the cabinet, or in the sleeping-room. The Empress's time and occupations were arranged in the following manner : She rose at seven, and was busy writing in her cabinet until nine (her last work was on the Senate Regulations). She once remarked in her conversation that she could not live a day without writing something. During that time she drank one cup of coffee, without cream. At nine o'clock she passed into the sleeping-room, where almost in the entrance from the boudoir she seated herself in a chair near the wall. Before her stood a table that slanted towards her and also to the opposite direction, where there was also a chair. She then generally wore a sleeping-gown, or capote, of white gros de Tours, and on her head a white cre"pe bon- net which was poised a little towards the left. In spite of her sixty-five years, the Empress's face was still fresh, her hands beautiful, her teeth all well preserved, so that she Adrian Moyseevich Grib6vski 407 spoke distinctly, without lisping, only a little masculinely. She read with eyeglasses and a magnifying glass. Having once been called in with my reports, I found her reading in this way. She smiled and said to me: " You, no doubt, do not need this apparatus! How old are you ? " And when I said: "Twenty-six," she added: " But we have, in our long service to the Empire, dulled our vision, and now we are of necessity compelled to use glasses." It appeared to me that " we" was used by her not as an expression of majesty, but in the ordinary sense. Upon another occasion she handed me an autograph note which contained some references for her Senate Regulations for verification, and said: " Laugh not at my Russian ortho- graphy. I will tell you why I have not succeeded in master- ing it. When I came here, I applied myself diligently to the study of Russian. When my aunt, Elizabeth Petrovna, heard of this, she told my Court mistress that I ought not to be taught any more, that I was clever enough anyway. Thus, I could learn Russian only from books, without a teacher, and that is the cause of my insufficient knowledge of orthography." However, the Empress spoke quite cor- rect Russian, and was fond of using simple native words, of which she knew a great number. " I am very happy," she said to me, ' ' that you know the order of the Chancery. You will be the first executor of my Regulations before the Sen- ate. But I caution you that the Chancery of the Senate has overpowered the Senate, and that I wish to free it from the Chancery. For any unjust decisions, my punishment for the Senate shall be : let them be ashamed ! " I remarked that not only the Senate, but also other bureaus that are guided by the General Reglement, are hampered in the transaction of their business by great inconveniences and difficulties that demand correction. " I should like very much to see those inconveniences and difficulties of which you speak to me in such strong terms. The General Reglement is one of the best institutions of Peter the Great." L,ater on, I presented to her Highness my notes upon the General Reglement, which I read to her almost every afternoon of her residence 408 The Eighteenth Century in Tsdrskoe Sel6 in 1796, and which were honoured by her undivided august approval. (These notes must be deposited with other affairs in the Archives of the Foreign College.) After occupying her seat, of which I spoke above, the Empress rang a bell, and the valet of the day, who uninter- ruptedly remained outside the door, entered and, having re- ceived his order, called in the persons. At that time of the day, the Chief Master of Police and the Secretary of State waited daily in the boudoir; at eleven o'clock there arrived Count Bezbor6dko; for the other officers certain days in the week were set apart: for the Vice-Chancellor, Governor, Government Procurator of the Government of St. Peters- burg, Saturday; for the Procurator-General, Monday and Thursday; Wednesday for the Superior Procurator of the Synod and Master General of Requests; Thursday for the Commander-in-Chief of St. Petersburg. But in important and urgent cases, all these officers could come any other time to report. The first one to be called in to the Empress was the Chief Master of Police, Brigadier Gldzov. He made a verbal re- port on the safety of the capital and other occurrences, and presented a note, written at the office irregularly and badly on a sheet of paper, containing the names of arrivals and departures on the previous day of people of all conditions who had taken the trouble to announce their names at the toll-house, for the sentinels stopped no one at the toll-house, nor inquired anything of them, in fact there existed then no toll-gates; anybody received a passport from the Governor at any time he asked for it, and without any pay, and could leave the city whenever he wished : for this reason the list of arrivals and departures never could be very long. After the Chief Master of Police left, the Secretaries of State who had any business had themselves announced by the valet, and were let in one by one. I was one of them. Upon entering the sleeping-room, I observed the following cere- mony : I made a low obeisance to the Empress, to which she responded with a nod of her head, and smilingly gave me her hand, which I took and kissed, and I felt the pressure Adrian Moysevich Grib6vski 409 of my own hand ; then she commanded me to take a seat. Having seated myself on the chair opposite, I placed my papers on the slanting table, and began to read. I suppose the other reporting officers acted in the same way, when they entered the room of the Empress, and that they met with the same reception. About eleven o'clock the other officers arrived with their reports, as mentioned above, and sometimes there came Field-Marshal Count Suvorov Rymnikski, who then, after the conquest of Poland, resided at St. Petersburg. When he entered, he first prostrated himself three times before the image of the Holy Virgin of Kazan, which stood in the corner, to the right of the door, and before which there burned an undying lamp ; then he turned to the Empress, prostrated himself once before her, though she tried to keep him from it, and, taking him by the hand, lifted him and said : "Mercy! Alexander Vasilevich, are you not ashamed to act like that ? ' ' But the hero worshipped her and regarded it as his sacred duty to express his devotion to her in that manner. The Empress gave him her hand, which he kissed as a relic, and asked him to seat himself on the chair oppos- ite her; two minutes later she dismissed him. They used to tell that Count Bezbor6dko and a few others prostrated themselves in the same way before her, but not before the Holy Virgin. At these audiences in the Winter and Tauric Palaces, the military officers wore uniforms, with their swords and shoes, but boots on holidays; civil officers wore during week-days simple French coats, but on holidays gala dresses; but at Tsarskoe Sel6, both the military and civilians wore dress- coats on week-days, and only on holidays the former put on uniforms, and the latter French coats with their swords. The Empress was busy until noon, after which her old hair-dresser, Kozlov, dressed her hair in her interior boudoir. She wore her hair low and very simple ; it was done up in the old fashion, with small locks behind her ears. Then she went into the boudoir, where we all waited for her; our so- ciety was then increased by four spinsters who came to serve 410 The Eighteenth Century the Empress at her toilet. One of them, M. S. Aleksy6ev, passed some ice to the Empress, who rubbed her face with it, probably in order to show that she did not like any other washes; another, A. A. Polokuchi, pinned a crpe ornament to her hair, and the two sisters ZvyereV handed her the pins. This toilet lasted not more than ten minutes, and during that time the Empress conversed with some one of the per- sons present, among whom there was often the Chief Equerry, Lev Sergyevich Naryshkin, and sometimes Count Strogo- n6v, who were her favourite society. Having bid the com- pany good-bye, the Empress returned with her maids into the sleeping-room, where she dressed herself for dinner, with their aid and with the aid of Mdrya SaVishna, while we all went home. On week-days the Empress wore simple silk dresses, which were all made almost according to the same pattern, and which were known as Moldavian; the upper garment was usually of lilac or greyish colour, and without her decorations, her lower garment white; on holidays she wore a brocade gown, with three decorations the crosses of St. Andrew, St. George and St. Vladimir, and sometimes she put on all the sashes that belong to these decorations, and a small crown; she wore not very high- heeled shoes. Her dinner was set for two o'clock. During the week there were generally invited to dinner, of ladies, the Maid of Honour Protdsov and Countess Branitski; of gentlemen, Adjutant-General P. V. Pdssek, A. A. Naryshkin, Count Strogon6v, the two French emigrants, the good Count Ester- hdzy and the black Marquis de Lambert, at times Vice- Admiral Ribas, Governor-General of the Polish provinces Tutolmm, and finally the Marshal of the Court, Prince Baryatinski. On holidays there were invited also other military and civil officers who lived in St. Petersburg, down to the fourth class, and, on special celebrations, down to the sixth class. The ordinary dinner of the Em- press did not last more than an hour. She was very abstemious in her food: she never breakfasted, and at dinner ^ she tasted with moderation of not more than three or four : Gavrilo Petrovich Kamenev 4 11 courses; she drank only a glass of Rhine or Hungarian wine; she never ate supper. For this reason she was, in spite of her sixty-five years and industrious habits, quite well and lively. At times, indeed, her legs swelled and sores were opened up, but that only served to purify her humours, consequently was advantageous for her health. It is asserted that her death took place solely through the closing up of these sores. After dinner all the guests immediately departed. The Empress was left alone: in summer she sometimes took a nap, but in winter never. She sometimes listened, until the evening assembly, to the foreign mail which arrived twice a week; sometimes she read a book, or made cameo imprints on paper; this she did also during the reading of her mail by P. A., or Count Mark6v, or Popov; but the latter was rarely invited to read, on account of his poor pronunciation of French, though he was nearly always present in the secre- tary's room. At six o'clock there assembled the aforemen- tioned persons, and others of the Empress's acquaintance whom she specially designated, in order to pass the evening hours. On Hermitage days, which were generally on Thurs- days, there was a performance, to which many ladies and gentlemen were invited; after the performance they all went home. On other days the reception was in the Empress's apartments. She played rocambole or whist, generally with P. A., E. V. Chertkov and Count Strogonov; there were also card-tables for the other guests. At ten o'clock the Empress retired to her inner apartments; at eleven she was in bed, and in all the rooms reigned a deep silence. Gavrilo Petr6vich Kamenev. (1772-1803.) Kdmenev wrote very few poems, and his reputation rests on his ballad Gromvdl, which is remarkable for its flowing verse, the first two lines being in dactylic measure, and the last two lines of each stanza in anapests. Its main importance, however, lies in the fact that it was the first successful attempt at Romantic verse in the Russian language. Pushkin said of him: "Kdmenev was the first in Russia who had the courage to abandon the classic school, and we Russian Romantic poets must bring a fitting tribute to his memory." The Eighteenth Century GROMVAL In my mind's eye I rapidly fly, rapidly piercing the dim- ness of time; I lift the veil of hoary antiquity, and I see Gromvdl on his good horse. The plumes wave upon his helmet, the tempered arrows clang in his quiver; he is borne over the clear field like a whirlwind, in burnished armour with his sharp spear. The sun is setting behind the mountains of flint, the even- ing is descending from the aerial heights. The hero arrives in the murky forest, and only through its tops he sees the sky. The storm, shrouded in sullen night, hastens to the west on sable pinions; the waters groan, the oak woods rustle, and centennial oaks creak and crack. There is no place to protect oneself against the storm and rain ; there is no cave, no house is seen ; only through the dense darkness now glistens, now goes out, through the branches of the trees, a little fire in the distance. With hope in his heart, with daring in his soul, slowly travelling through the forest towards the fire, the hero arrives at the bank of a brook, and suddenly he sees near- by and in front of him a castle. A blue flame gleams within and reflects the light in the flowing stream; shadows pass to and fro in the windows, and howls and groans issue dully from them. The knight swiftly dismounts from his horse and goes to the grass-covered gate; he strikes mightily against it with his steel spear, but only echoes in the forest respond to the knocking. Immediately the fire within the castle goes out, and the light dies in the embrace of darkness; the howls and groans grow silent, too; the storm increases, the rain is doubled. At the powerful stroke of his mighty hand the firmness of the iron gates gives way: the latches are broken, the hinges creak, and fearless Gromvdl goes in. He unsheathes his sword, ready to strike, and, groping, Gavrilo Petrdvich Kimenev 4 J 3 goes into the castle. Quiet and gloom lie over all, only through the windows and chinks the whirlwind whistles. The knight cries out in anger and in grief: " Ferocious wizard, greedy Zlomar! You have compelled Gromval to wander over the world, you have stolen Rogny6da, his companion ! ' ' Many a kingdom and land have I passed, have struck down mighty knights and monsters, have vanquished giants with my mighty hand, but have not yet found my beloved Rognyda! " Where do you dwell, evil Zlomar ? In wild mountain fastnesses, in caves, in forests, in murky underground pass- ages, in the depth of the sea do you hide her from my view ? " If I find your habitation, wicked magician, evil sorcerer, I will drag Rognyeda out of her captivity, I will pull out your black heart from your breast." The knight grows silent, and sleep comes over him. Fatigue and night make him a bed. Without taking off his armour, in the breastplate arid helmet, he kneels down and falls into a deep sleep. The clouds hurry away, and the storm dies down, the stars grow dim, the east grows light; the morning star awakes, Zimtserla blooms like a crimson rose, but Gromval is still asleep. The sun rolls over the vault of heaven, at noon glows with its heated rays, and the pitch of the pines waters through the bark, but sleep still keeps Gromval in its embrace. The forerunner of the night with olive brow glances from the east upon the forest and fields, and from an urn sprinkles dew upon the sward; but sleep still keeps Gromval in its embrace. Night, with cypress crown upon its head, in a garment woven of darkness and stars, walks frowning, over stairs, to its throne; but sleep still keeps Gromval in its embrace. Clouds congest in the vault of heaven, darkness grows thick, midnight comes on; the hero, awakening from his deep sleep, wonders when he sees not the crimson dawn. Suddenly peals roar in the castle like thunder; the walls 414 The Eighteenth Century shake, the windows rattle, and, as lightnings rapidly flash in the darkness, the hall is made bright with a terrible fire. All the doors bang loud as they open : in white shrouds, with candles in their hands, shadows appear ; behind them skeletons carry in their bony hands an iron coffin. They place the coffin in the vast hall; immediately the lid flies off, and the wizard Zlomdr, O horrible sight! lies breathless within, with open eyes. The floor opens wide, and a hellish fire rises up in a howl- ing whirlwind and thunder, and, embracing the iron coffin, heats it to a white glow ; Zlomdr sighs the heavy sigh of Gehenna. In his wild, fierce, bloodshot eyes terror is painted, de- spair and grief; from his mouth black foam boils in a cloud, but the magician lies motionless, like a corpse. The ghosts and skeletons, taking each other's hands, yell, howl, laugh, whistle; raving in rapturous orgy, they dance a hellish dance around his coffin. Midnight passes in a terrible entertainment, and their groans and howls thunder ever more horrible. But scarcely has the herald of morning crowed three times, when ghosts, skeletons and coffin suddenly disappear. There is darkness as in the grave, and quiet all around; in the forest nearby is silence and gloom. Gromvdl per- plexed, marvels at the appearance, and wondering does not believe himself. Suddenly a magic flute is heard, and the sound of the harp strikes his ears: the vault of the hall bursts open, and a rose-coloured beam, with its soft light, dispels dense night. In a light cloud of fragrant vapours, as if a fresh breeze were blowing and a swan gently gliding high up in the air, a sorceress softly descends into the hall. Purer than the lily is her garment ; her girdle shines on her waist like hyacinth ; like the twinkle of the gold-gleam- ing eastern star, merriment beams in her eyes. With a pleasant voice Dobr&da speaks: "Sad knight, submit to your fate! Zlom&r is no longer; fate has for ever cleared the world from that wrongdoer. Gavrilo Petr6vich Kamenev 415 " Into the abyss of hell he has been hurled for ever; the jaws of Gehenna have swallowed him; with the gurgling of the lava and the roar of the fire, the abyss alone will hear his howl and groan. "Death, transgressing the law of nature, has not deprived the magician's body of feeling : the shades of persons by him destroyed nightly torment him here in the castle. " Knight, hasten to your Rognyeda! To the south of the forest, in a sandy plain, in a steel prison of Zlorndr's castle, two winged Zilants watch her. "Accept this magic horn from me; it has the power to close the jaws of monsters. But listen! You cannot save Rognyeda without shedding her blood, thus the fates have decreed." The magic strings sound again; the cloud is wafted up- wards with Dobrada. Struck dumb by this speech, and beside himself, Gromval, like a statue of stone, follows her with his glances. Holding the emerald horn in his hand, in bitter resent- ment, the hero exclaims: " Ill-starred gift of the faithless sorceress, you promise happiness to me by the death of Rognyeda ! " No! I tremble at the very thought, and my heart flies a sacrifice to her. But, Gromvdl, obey the dictum of fate, and hasten to destroy Zlomar's sorcery. " If you cannot save Rognyeda, lay the castle in ruins, vanquish the Zilants, shed your heroic blood for her, and crown your love with an heroic death ! ' ' A beautiful morning with radiant beam gilds the tops of century oaks. Turning his horse to the midday sun, our knight leaves both the castle and forest. Ravines, cliffs, rapids, crags, groan under the heavy beats of the hoofs; dense dust like a cloud and whirling in a pillar flies upwards where Gromvdl races. Through the gloomy pass of a rocky mount the knight rides into a vast steppe: an ocean of sand spreads before his view, and in the distance, it seems mingled with the sky. No wind stirs the sandy waves; heat breathes there its 4i 6 The Eighteenth Century pestiferous breath ; no shrubs rustle there, nor brooks babble: all is quiet and still as in the cemetery at midnight. Through that wilderness, those terrible fields, no road leads, no tracks are seen ; only in the east one can discern a steep mountain, and upon it a mighty castle stands out black in the distance. Struggling three days with thirst and heat, the hero passes the barrier of death ; on his worn-out steed, and in a bloody perspiration, he slowly reaches the foot of the mountain. Over slippery paths on overhanging cliffs that threaten to crash down into the valley, slowly ascending the narrow footpath above an abyss, Gromval reaches the top and castle. Zlomar has built this castle with the power of Gehenna and the spirits of Hell. The turrets that tower above black cliffs announce destruction and evil death. With RognyeMa in his heart, with bravery in his soul, Grornvdl, like a fierce storm, breaks the hinges of the cast- iron doors, and with his tempered spear enters the terrible castle. Furious he advances, under his mighty heel dead bones and skulls crack; ravens, birds of the night and bats are awakened in the mossy crevices of the walls. They hover like a cloud above the castle, and their terrible cries shake the air; the Zilants, hearing GromvaTs arrival, begin to howl and whistle, and flap their wings. Opening their jaws, they fly against him; their stings issue from their mouths like spears ; they rattle their scales, bending their tails, and stretch out their destructive claws from their feet. The hero blows his emerald horn, the sound deafens them, and they fall like rocks; their wings are dipt, their jaws are closed; falling into a sleep of death, they lie in mounds. In rapture the knight flies to the dungeon to embrace Rognye'da with flaming heart; but instead, an enormous door is opened, and a giant, mailed in armour, comes to meet him. His furious glances are comets in the dark ; brass is his Gavrilo Petr6vich Kamenev 417 corselet, lead his warclub; grey moss of the bog is his beard, a black forest after the storm the hair on his head. Swinging his club with a terrible might, the giant lets it fall on Gromvdl and strikes his valiant head: the echo shakes, reverberating through the castle. The helmet clangs and is shattered to pieces; sparks issue from his dark eyes. From the stroke the club is bent as a bow, but Gromvdl, like a rock, does not move from the spot. The sword flashes in his heroic hand, and strikes the wretch like a thunderbolt; his strong brass would have broken to splinters, but the blade glides down his magic coat of mail. The giant roars in evil madness, breathes flames, trembles with anger; he swells the muscles of his powerful shoulders, and threatens to crush Gromvdl in his claws. Death is unavoidable, destruction near; his terrible hands touch his corselet; but Gromval, seizing his leg like an oak, makes him totter, and brings him to his fall. The giant falls like a crumbling tower, and shakes all the castle with his terrible cry ; the walls recede, the battlements fall; he is prostrate on the ground, and has dug a grave in the damp earth. Grasping his throat with bis mighty hand, Gromvdl thrusts his sword into his jaws; the giant's teeth gnash against the steel; he roars and groans, and writhes in con- vulsions. Black foam and crimson blood lash and gush from his mouth; furious with suffering, battling with death, he digs the earth with his feet, trembles, lies in the agony of death. Mingling in a boiling stream the giant's blood wells up; a gentle vapour, rising from it in a cloud, forms the outline of fair Rognyeda. The roses in her cheeks, the charm in her eyes, the crimson lips beckon for a kiss; her hair, falling like velvet over her shoulders, veils her swan's breast. Gromvdl marvels at this miracle: does he see a vision or a real being ? Approaching her with hope and hesitation, he presses not a dream, but Rognyeda to his breast. 4i 8 The Eighteenth Century Filled with passionate rapture, Gromvdl addresses his love with tender words: " Long, oh, long have I sought you, Rognyda, and have, like a shadow, wandered over the wide world!" Drawing a deep breath, she says: " The evil magician, the cunning Zlomdr, impelled by his despicable passion, brought me to this enchanted castle. ' ' Here he touched me with his magic wand, and deprived me of memory and feelings. Falling immediately into a mysterious trance, I have ever since been shrouded in deepest darkness. ' ' Taking Rognyda by her hand, Gromvdl softly descends to the foot of the mountain. He seats her behind him on his steed, and like an arrow flies back on the road. Deep darkness covers the castle; thunders roar furiously in the night; stormy whirlwinds, tearing themselves away from their chains, howl, and the flinty ribs of the rock tremble. With a terrible roar the earth bursts open, and the towers fall into the bottomless abyss; the Zilants, dungeon, giants are overthown : Gromval has vanquished the magic of Zlomdr. Vladislav Aleksandrovich Ozerov. (1770-1816.) Ozerov entered the military school when a child, left it as a lieu- tenant in 1788, and then was made adjutant to the director of the school, Count Anhalt, who died in 1794. His first literary venture was an In Memoriam to the director, written in French. He then tried himself in odes and shorter songs, of which only the Hymn to the God of Love rises above mediocrity. He scored his first great success in his tragedy CEdipus at Athens, which produced a stirring effect upon the audience. This was followed by Fingal, the subject being from Ossian. But the drama that most affected his generation was Dimltri Donskdy, which appeared opportunely on the eve of Napoleon's invasion, in 1807. The element of tearfulness, or " senti- mentality," as Karamzm called it, which Ozerov was the first to in- troduce into the Russian tragedy, and the patriotic subject which he developed in his Dimltri Donskdy combined to make his plays very popular, though his verse is rather heavy and artificial. Vladislav Aleksandrovich Ozerov 419 DIMITRI DONSKOY ACT I., SCENE I. DIMITRI AND T.HE OTHER PRINCES, BOYARS AND Dimttri. Russian princes, boyars, generals, you who have crossed the Don to find liberty and, at last, to cast off the yokes that have been forced upon us ! How long were we to endure the dominion of the Tartars in our land, and, con- tent with an humble fate, sit as slaves on our princely throne ? Two centuries had nearly passed when Heaven in its anger sent that scourge against us; for almost two cent- uries the foes, now openly, now hidden, like hungry ravens, like insatiable wolves, have been destroying, burning, plun- dering us. I have called you here to avenge us: the time has now come to repay the foe for our calamities. The Kipchak horde has, like a gigantic burden, been lying on Russian shoulders, spreading desolation and terror all around, but now, heavy by its own weight, it has fallen to pieces. Civil strife, dissension and all the ills which here- tofore had brought the Russian land to utter weakness, have now penetrated the horde. New khans have arisen who have torn themselves loose from it; but the insatiable tyrants, having barely risen, threaten our land. The most insatiable of them and most cunning, Mamay, the accursed ruler of the Trans-Don horde, has risen against us in an un- just war. He is hurrying against us, and perhaps with to- morrow's dawn will appear before our camp. But seeing the sudden union of the Russian forces, his heart was dis- turbed, and his mind misgave him, so he decided to send first an embassy to us. Friends of Dimitri, do you advise to receive them? Or, remaining firm in our heroic intention, shall we answer Mamay in front of our army, when the first bold onslaught of the Russians would resound upon the earth and would frighten the Tartars ? Tverskoy. Let us give the answer before the army in the field of battle! None of us, O princes, can be more anxious than I to avenge ourselves on the inhuman foe. Whose 4 2 o The Eighteenth Century family can compare with the Tversk6ys in misfortunes they have borne ? My grandfather and his sire, after endless tortures, lay their heads in the graves through the treach- ery of the infidel, and their ashes groan under the power of the horde. Grand Prince of Russia, you have called us hither not to enter into parley with Mamdy, but to decide in battle and end all discord with him. . . . Byelozerski. Oh, how happy am I to have lived to see this day, to contemplate here the concord and love among the princes, and the unanimous zeal in your hearts against the enemy! I, about to bear my age into the yawning grave, will be able to bring hope to the departed fathers, that the honour of the Russian land is to be reinstated, that her power and glory is to return. O shades of Vladimir, and you, shades of Yaroslav, ancestral heads of princely houses! In the lap of the angels you will rejoice, as you foresee the blessed time when the disunited nation of Russian tribes, uniting with one soul into one whole, will triumphantly ap- pear a threatening giant, and united Russia will give laws to the world! Dimitri, your victory is certain! No, never before has such an army been gathered in so far-reaching a camp, either by your grandfather Ivan, or Simeon the Ter- rible, or your meek father! I, the old leader of the forces of Byel6zersk, have never seen Russia lead out such numbers of bold warriors. Of all the Russian princes, Olg alone has remained in idleness at Ryazan, and without interest in the expedition ; his ear alone is deaf to the common groan. May the memory of those perish whose spirit can with quiet eye see the country's woes, or rather, let their name with disgrace and endless shame pass to late posterity ! Yet, my lord, however flattering your success may be, my advice is to receive the Tartar embassy, and if we can establish peace by paying a tribute to Mamdy. . . . {All the princes express dissatisfaction.} Dimitri. O Prince of Byel6zersk, what do you propose ? Fearing strife, to acknowledge the Tartar's power by paying a shameful tribute ? Byetizerski. To spare the priceless Christian blood. If Vladislav Aleksandrovich Ozerov 421 we conquer Maniay, look out, the hordes will once more unite for our common woe; beware, this temporarily suc- cessful exploit will again rouse their ambitious spirit, and they will perceive at last how injurious for their ambition their strife is, which separates their khans. The murders, fire, slaughter of wives and children which the Tartars have perpetrated against us, in their opinion, give the hordes a right over us. They deem Russia to be their patrimony. Seeing our bravery, they will stop their disorders, and will soon, united, bring misery on the Russians. Rather give them a chance to weaken in their destructive discord; let us gather strength in the peaceful quiet and, warding off the chances of war, choose peace instead of useless victory. Dimttri. Oh, better death in battle than dishonourable peace! Thus our ancestors thought, thus we, too, will think. Those times are past when timid minds saw in the Tartars a tool of Heaven, which it is senseless and improper to oppose. In our days honour and the very voice of faith arm us against the tormentors. That voice, that prophetic voice of faith, proclaims to us that an immortal crown awaits the fallen in battle, that through the grave they pass to eternal joy. O Sergi, pastor of souls, whom the groans of fel- low-citizens have so often disturbed in your hermit prayers, and whose tears have so abundantly flowed lamenting the fate of the innocent, O you who with sacred hand blessed us for the impending battle ! In your hermit cell, where you pass your humble days, listen to my words: inspired by you, they will inflame the Russian hearts to seek here liberty or the heavenly crown ! 'T is better to cease living, or not to be born at all, than to submit to the yoke of a foreign tribe, than with the name of payers of tribute to flatter their greed. Can we with such slavery avert our misfortunes ? He who pays a tribute is weak; he who evinces a weak spirit in- vites arrogant lust to insult. But I am ready to receive the Khan's messenger and to bring him before the assembly of the princes, not to listen to the shameless propositions of Tartar arrogance, but to announce to him the resolve for 422 The Eighteenth Century war, that he may read valour in our brows, and, shuddering, bear terror into Mamay's camp. SmolSnski. The whole assembly announces assent to your advice. Dimttri. The messenger awaits the decision near the tent. You, Bre"nski, bring in the Tartars that have come to us! Prince Ivn Mikh&ylovich Dolgoruki. (1764-1823.) Ivan Mikhaylovich Dolgoruki was the grandson of Prince Ivan Aleksye"evich, the favourite of Peter II. (see p. 233). In 1791 he left the army with the rank of brigadier. He was then made Vice- Governor of Pe'nza, where he sought relief from the humdrum life of a provincial town in reading and in writing poetry. One of the first of his poems to attract attention was the envoi To my Lackey ; he became universally known through his My Penza Fireplace. In 1802 he was appointed Governor of Vladimir. Not long after his re- turn to Moscow he was forced to retire before the advancing French- men. During his retreat he wrote his Lament of Moscow. His best poem is probably his Legacy. While not a poet of the first order, Dolgoruki displayed great originality and much depth of feeling. This is what he himself said of his poems : " In my poems I wished to preserve all the shades of my feelings, to see in them, as in a pic- ture, the whole history of my heart, its agitation, the change in my manner of thinking, the progress of my thoughts in the different ages of my life, and the gradual development of my small talents. Every verse reminds me of some occurrence, or thought, or mood that influenced me at such and such a moment. . . . That is the key to the originality which many are so kind as to ascribe to my productions." The Legacy was translated by Sir John Bo wring. THE LEGACY When time's vicissitudes are ended, Be this, be this my place of rest; Here let my bones with earth be blended, Till sounds the trumpet of the blest. For here, in common home, are mingled Their dust, whom fame or fortune singled; And those whom fortune, fame passed by, All mingled, and all mouldering; folly And wisdom, mirth and melancholy, Slaves, tyrants, all mixt carelessly. Prince Iv&n Mikhaylovich Dolgoniki 423 List! 'T is the voice of time, Creation's Unmeasured arch repeats the tone; Look! E'en like shadows, mighty nations Are born, flit by us, and are gone! See ! Children of a common father, See stranger- crowds, like vapours gather; Sires, sons, descendants, come and go. Sad history! Yet e'en there the spirit Some joys may build, some hopes inherit, And wisdom gather flowers from woe. There, like a bee-swarm, round the token Of unveiled truth shall sects appear, And evil's poisonous sting be broken In the bright glance of virtue's spear. And none shall ask, what dormitory Was this man's doom, what robes of glory Wore he, what garlands crowned his brow, Was pomp his slave ? Come now, discover The heart, the soul, Delusion 's over, What was his conduct ? Answer now ! Where stands yon hill-supported tower, By Fili , shall I wake again, Summoned to meet Almighty Power In judgment, like my fellow-men. I shall be there, and friends and brothers, Sisters and children, fathers, mothers, With joy that never shall decay; The soul, substantial blessing beaming (All here is shadowy and seeming), Drinks bliss no time can sweep away. Friends, on my brow that rests when weary Erect no proud and pompous pile: Your monuments are vain and dreary, Their splendour cannot deck the vile. A green grave, by no glare attended, With other dust and ashes blended, 424 The Eighteenth Century Oh, let my dust and ashes lie! There, as I sleep, Time, never sleeping, Shall gather ages to his keeping, For such is nature's destiny. My wife, my children shall inherit All I possessed, 't was mine, 't is theirs; For death, that steals the living spirit, Gives all earth's fragments to its heirs. Send round no circling-briefs of sorrow, No garments of the raven borrow ; 'T is idle charge, 't is costly pride. Be gay, through rain and frosty weather, Nor gather idle priests together To chant my humble grave beside. Cry, orphans! Cry, ye poor! imploring The everlasting God, that He May save me when I sink, adoring, Amidst His boundless mercy-sea. My blessing to my foes be given, Their curses far from me be driven, Nor break upon my hallowed bliss; God needs no studied words from mortals, A sigh may enter Heaven's wide portals, He could not err, He taught us this. No songs, no elegy, death hearkens To music ne'er though sweet it be: When o'er you night's oblivion darkens, Then let oblivion shadow me. No verse will soften Hades' sadness, No verse can break on Eden's gladness, 'T is all parade and shifting glare: A stream, where scattered trees are growing, A secret tear, in silence flowing, No monument as these so fair. Prince Ivn Mikhaylovich Dolgortiki 425 Such slumber here, their memory flashes Across my thoughts. Hail, sister, hail! I kiss thy sacred bed of ashes, And soon shall share thy mournful tale. Thou hast paid thy earthly debts, 't is ended, Thy cradle and thy tomb are blended, The circle of thy being run ; And now in peace thy history closes, And thy stilled, crumbling frame reposes Where life's short, feverish play is done. I live and toil, my thoughts still follow The idle world: my care pursue Dreams and delusions, baseless, hollow, And vanities still false, though new. Then fly I earthly joys, I find them L/eave terror- working stings behind them: " Beware, beware! " experience cries; Yet ah ! how faint the voice of duty, One smile of yonder flattering beauty Would make me waste even centuries. From Sir John Bowring's Specimens of the Russian Poets, Part II. MY MOSCOW FIREPLACE Scarcely have we seen summer, behold, winter is here! The frests drive us into our rooms, and will for a long time keep us within. Nature's beauty is changed, and dimmed by the veil of night. Oh, what shall I do ? What begin ? I will move up to my dear fireplace, and will share with it, as before, my melancholy. Whatever countries I have been in, whether my house was large or small, whether I paraded in high palace halls, or retired to my apartments, the fireplace, my winter bene- factor, was everywhere the witness of my acts: whole days I passed with it alone; pining, sorrows and annoyances, con- solation, pleasure, joy, my fireplace has experienced them all. 426 The Eighteenth Century Whenever I mentally survey all human lots in this world, and by the fireplace in my study judge of humanity, I with difficulty can harmonise in my imagination the opinions of happiness that are common to all. The whole world Mves in a noise and din; but what does it find in place of happi- ness ? New causes for worriment. Kings, of their own free will, leave the throne and hasten to arms; in their elevated place they not seldom curse their lives. No matter how boy&rs grow stout, they also pale in their good fortune, like their lowest slave. He in his un- bounded sphere, the other in his earth hut, or cave, both are weak against the attack. Everywhere they have written of happiness, and will al- ways prate about it, but they have nowhere found it. Yes, 't is difficult to attain ! And I, though a simple man, can also like a philosopher aver it is within me; but where, and how to find it? I do not know! In sorrow I suffer openly; whenever I am merry, 't is as if in a dream. Protesting against the evil of the passions, knitting his brow, like Cato, when all is quiet in his soul, the philosopher proclaims his law : ' ' Why be enslaved by passions ? We must submit to reason. All our desires are an empty dream ; all upon earth, O men, is transitory : seek eternal happiness in Heaven, for the world is vanity of vanities. ' ' If one dish satisfies your hunger, why have three ? If you have a caftan, what is the use of five ? What need is there of a pile of money ? When you die, you will not take it with you. Contract the limits of your necessities, flee from the city into the country, live quietly your allotted time, with equanimity bear insults, magnanimously suffer sorrow, be more than man! " What are you yourself, my teacher ? Are you a god, or an angel in the flesh ? Guardian of deep wisdom, permit me to look within you ! Reveal to us not your mind alone, but your feelings, announce to us without ambiguity: are you yourself? I see, you are a vain hypocrite: you do not be- lieve your own sermon, you are an empty-sounding cymbal. Oh, if people all lived as reason bids them ! If feelings Prince Ivan Mikhaylovich Dolgoruki 4 2 7 were more gentle, if the fount of blood did not boil, how nice life would be ! All would be peace and security, and love the tie of all the lands ; people would not devour each other; and a Frenchman, an Arab, a Mussulman would live in harmony together. Oh, if ... I need but place this word at the head, and my pen creates at once a new earth, nay, heaven. All kingdoms will flow with abundance, all men will be equally strong, nowhere there shall be snow, nor winter, but flowers will grow the year around, .and we will not run to the fire- place, we shall be regenerated. Oh no ! I am sorry for the fireplace ! L,et us leave all as it is: we cannot reproduce what my reason has evoked. Let the sphere circle around, and let each various chimera dis- port with every mind ! The Creator will turn all for the best: to-day the chill disturbs us, but the thunder of the summer does not terrify us. I hear at all times of the good qualities of countrymen, what beautiful lives they lead, and how the law of nature is not trampled upon by them. ' ' Their manners, ' ' they assert, "are coarser, but their amusements are incomparably simpler than ours: they live in freedom with each other, do not drink nor eat according to the fashion." 'T is not true! When we listen to serenades on a beautiful summer day, while limpid waterfalls make a rippling noise, and the shade of cedars protects us from the heat, the peasant hitches his horse to the plough and tears up the earth, or hauls a log, or, if it be winter, looks through dim windows, through which nothing can be seen, at the blizzard without. Fireplace, I will not exchange you for all the treasures of the lords! You are often my consolation, and always pleas- ant and agreeable to me. I/et sorrows be inevitable: joy is coextensive with them. You are the throne of my amuse- ments; but I am satisfied with my books; I feel with them neither pain, nor think my room small, and I read them as my spirit prompts me. But when I leave my book, and fix my eyes upon the fire- place, with what pleasure I recall the host of various incid- 428 The Eighteenth Century ents! I at once reproduce in my mind the picture of my youth, and the progress and cause of my cares; I even now, as it were, glance to the north, and south, and the capital, and the Finland border. I accuse myself before thee, my Lord! I have in vain killed my youth ; carried on the wave of habit, I have given my days and nights to dreaming. I, tossed now .hither, now thither, hastened to make new acquaintances, and thought: 1 ' This is all a loan I make ; some day the debt, I am sure, will be duly returned to me." 'T is time to adapt myself to the custom! I shall soon be forty years old: it is time to learn from experience that to judge people rightly, to know this world, to seek friends is a self-deception and vain endeavour of the heart. The measure of human indifference is in our days full to over- flowing; ask for no examples: alas! there are too many of them. In your presence all will praise you, but let there be an occasion for helping you, and your worth will be depreciated, or without saying a word they will walk away. If one be cunning, he will so oppress you that he will compel you to think all your life of him in tears; if he be foolish, he will, wherever he may meet you, cast a heap of stones before you and bar your way. From all such evils my consolation art Thou, only God, God of all creation ! I need nothing more, for I expect no happiness from men. A hundredfold more pleasant it is, staying at home, and not perceiving in it the temptations of the world, to live simply with your family and, modestly passing your time and vigorously communing with reason, to stir the wood in the fireplace. Ivdn Ivanovich Dmitriev. (1760-1837.) Dmitriev was born in the Government of Simbirsk, where his friend and colleague Karamzin was also born. He entered the army in 1775 as a common soldier, and did not advance to the grade of commissioned officer until 1787. During his military service he privately studied foreign languages and wrote poetry. His first col- lection of poems, containing Ermak, What Others Say and The Ivan Ivanovich Dmitriev 429 Little Dove, appeared in 1795. These are the best of his productions. He also wrote a number of fables that do not suffer by comparison with those of Kryl6v. His shorter songs, like The Little Dove, have become very popular, and are part of every song-book, together with Neledinski's "To the streamlet I '11 repair" and other similar songs. Dmitriev did for poetry what Karamzin was doing for prose, he purified Russian from the dross of the Church-Slavic language, an inheritance from the days of Lomon6sov, and he popularised the Romantic spirit in Russian literature. He also encouraged younger men of talent, such as Kryl6v. Dmitriev rapidly rose in honours, until he was made Minister of Justice in 1810. He retired a few years later to his estates near Moscow, where he passed his days sur- rounded by a coterie of literary men. The following English versions of his poems have appeared : Dur- ing a Thunder-Storm, The Tsar and the Two Shepherds, The Broken Fiddle, Over the Grave of Bogdanovich, Love and Friendship, in Sir John Bowring's Specimens of the Russian Poets, Part I. ; Yermak, Moskva Rescued, To the Volga, Enjoyment, " O had I but known be- fore," The Little Dove, To Chloe, to., Part II. ; Counsel, The Little Dove, in W. D. Lewis's The Bakchesarian Fountain ; Yermak, The Siskin and the Chaffinch, The Doctor, Sympathy, in C. T. Wilson's Russian Lyrics ; The Moon, in 'Fraser's Magazine, 1842 (article, Russian Fabulists}. THE LITTLE DOVE The little dove, with heart of sadness, In silent pain sighs night and day; What now can wake that heart to gladness? His mate beloved is far away. He coos no more with soft caresses, No more is millet sought by him, The dove his lonesome state distresses, And tears his swimming eyeballs dim. From twig to twig now skips the lover, Filling the grove with accents kind, On all sides roams the harmless rover, Hoping his little friend to find. Ah ! vain that hope his grief is tasting, Fate seems to scorn his faithful love, 430 The Eighteenth Century And imperceptibly is wasting, Wasting away, the little dove ! At length upon the grass he threw him, Hid in his wing his beak and wept; There ceased his sorrows to pursue him, The little dove for ever slept. His mate, now sad abroad and grieving, Flies from a distant home again, Sits by her friend, with bosom heaving, And bids him wake with sorrowing pain. She sighs, she weeps, her spirits languish, Around and round the spot she goes; Ah! charming Chloe 'slost in anguish, Her friend wakes not from his repose! From W. D. Lewis's The Bakchesarian Fountain* DURING A THUNDER-STORM It thunders ! Sons of dust, in reverence bow ! Ancient of days! Thou speakest from above; Thy right hand wields the bolt of terror now; That hand which scatters peace and joy and love. Almighty ! Trembling like a child, I hear Thy awful voice, alarmed, afraid, I see the flashes of Thy lightning wild, And in the very grave would hide my head. What is man ? Up to the sun he flies, Or feebly wanders through earth's vale of dust: There is he lost 'midst heaven's high mysteries, And here in error and in darkness lost. Beneath the stormclouds, on life's raging sea, Like a poor sailor, by the tempest tossed In a frail bark, the sport of destiny, He sleeps, and dashes on the rocky coast. Ivan Ivanovich Dmitri ev 43 l Thou breathest, and the obedient storm is still. Thou speakest, silent the submissive wave; Man's shattered ship the rushing waters fill, And the hushed billows roll across his grave. Sourceless and endless God ! Compared with Thee, lyife is a shadowy, momentary dream, And Time, when viewed through Thy eternity, I/ess than the mote of morning's golden beam. From Sir John Bowring's Specimens of the Russian Poets, Part I. ERMAK How strange a sight is this I see, By thee revealed, Antiquity ! Beneath the gloomy garb of night, By the pale moonbeam's cloudy light, I gaze upon the Irtysh stream, Whose waters foaming, whirling, gleam, As on they rush with angry tide. Two men I see, exhausted, there, Like shadows in the murky air; Their faces in their hands they hide. One youthful is, the other old, His beard hangs down with wavy fold; Each wears a dress whose every part With awe and wonder fills the heart; Descending from their helmets down, The coiling tails of serpents frown, Mingled with owlet's bristling wing, Their coats wild-beasts' skins borrowing. Their breasts entire with thongs are hung, Of flints, and rusty iron, strung; Within each belt is firmly prest A knife, whose edge well sharpened is; Two drums are at their feet, I wis, And close beside their lances rest : They both are sorcerers of Siberian race, And thus the meaning of their words I trace. 43 2 The Eighteenth Century THE OLD MAN " Roar on, old Irtysh, let our cry Along thy stream re-echoing fly; The gods have chastening sent in ire And poured on us misfortunes dire." THE YOUNG MAN " Woes, woes, upon us tenfold lour In this our most disastrous hour." THE OLD MAN " O thou, whose crown three nations bore, Their names far-spread from shore to shore! O mighty, proud, and ancient State, Mother of many races great ! Thy glory 's past and worn away, No longer chief, thou must obey! " THE YOUNG MAN "As clouds of dust from whirlwinds hie, So scattered quite thy people lie; And he, Kuchum, 1 dread of the world, Is dead, on foreign deserts hurled." THE OLD MAN " The holy Shamans, forced from home, N Throughout the rugged forests roam ; For this, ye gods of earth and air, Was it that white has grown my hair ? Tell me, was it for this that I, Through all my life your faithful slave, Prostrate in dust before ye lie, And thousands for companions have ? " THE YOUNG MAN "And who are they have made thee fall ? " 1 Yermdk defeated Kuchum Khan in 1579 ; Kuchum Khan fell into the hands of Calmucks, who killed him. Iv^novich Dmitriev 433 THE OLD MAN " From Russia come they, one and all; Why did not plague and famine loom Upon our land with frightful doom ? Better if elemental wrath Had fall'n in fury on our path, And swallowed up Siberia's fame, Than bow before this Ermdk's name." THE YOUNG MAN " Of Nature's self the curse and blight, May curses heavy on him light! Ye streams, and mountains old, 't is he Has flung upon you infamy ! ' ' THE OLD MAN "As fiery columns passing on, As icy blasts the land upon, All fell by his destructive tread; Where'er his fatal arrow sped, There life grew pale, and death's dire smart O'ertook each timid, cowering heart." THE YOUNG MAN " By him deprived of mortal breath, Our royal brother met his death." THE OLD MAN "As I looked on, the hero's might Shone forth in that terrific fight; 'T was on Muhammad-Kula's ' plain Such fight I ne'er shall see again. His arrows hurtling in swift course, His breast enkindled with strange force, He drew from out its sheath his blade 1 The translator misunderstood the passage. Mehmed-Kul was the King's brother, whom Ermdk made prisoner and sent to John the Terrible. VOL. I. 28. 434 The Eighteenth Century 'Rather than weary life give death, Free from captivity,' he saith, And fierce assault upon Ermdk he made. Most terrible the sight ! as clash Their swords, the lightnings from them flash; Blow fell on blow with frightful sounds. They give and they receive new wounds. They seize each other in their rage, And dreadful combat still they wage; Arm against arm breast against breast They in their struggle know no rest ; The wild woods with their cries resound, They dig up with their feet the ground : From brows ran down, like hail, their sweat, And fearfully their bosoms beat; Their heads incline from side to side, And thus they grapple, to each other tied, Still struggling on; until the weight Of Ermdk seals his foeman's fate. ' The victory 's mine ! ' 't is thus he cries: ' The land before me subject lies! ' " THE YOUNG MAN ' 'Accomplished is the prophecy, That this our land should conquered be. But shall the oppressed sigh in vain, And never more to freedom rise again ? " THE OLD MAN "Eternal is the fatal yoke: Listen, my son ! Late yesternight Into the silent woods I took My way; and there, while rapturous light Enkindled all my inmost soul, Burnt sacrifice I offered whole, And to the gods made fervent prayer That they would to our aid repair: When, suddenly, the winds arise, Ivin Iv4novich Dmitri ev 435 From off the trees the fresh leaves fall, The cedars groan with creaking cries, The goats away are scattered all. Down sank I, when, above the noise Of the dire storm, I heard a voice Thus speaking: ' Furious war does wage Racha 1 'gainst sinners; to his rage All those who sin devoted are; Siberia has renounced my laws, And righteous, therefore, is the cause . Why she be subject to the fierce White Tsar.* By morn and night ye shall be found Alike in heavy fetters bound ; But Ermdk's name shall never fade, Nor of his race an end be made; They 'neath the moon shall ever be Eternal in their majesty.' When ceased the voice, the thunders loud Rattled from out each stormy cloud; On us has fallen Misfortune's hand, Woe" THE YOUNG MAN "Woe to us, and our land." Then, while they yield to deepest sighs, They from the moss-strewn stones arise, And while their arms again they wear, Along the shore they disappear. Peace, Ermak, on thine ashes rest! Thine image of bright silver made, Which in Siberia's mines was laid, Is by the crown of Russia prest. But why speak I with hasty zeal ? What do my foolish words reveal ? 1 God of the Ostiaks. * The Tsar of Russia ; the origin of the appellation is not certain. 436 The Eighteenth Century We do not even know the place Where rest thy bones in earth's embrace. The wild beasts trample them upon, Or Ostiaks, as they hurry on, Chasing the antlered stag, and roe, To bring them by their arrows low. But, hero, from thine anger cease, And let thy memory know peace ! Poetic genius every day, When golden morning's beauties play, Shall o'er thy corpse still float along, And greet thee with triumphant song. What matters it in any case If to barbaric times we trace Thy birth ? Yet thou such deeds hast done As have thy land victorious shown. Although thine ashes disappear, Though e'en thy sons no likeness bear To thee, but, their great sire forgetting, Their livelihood in wild woods getting, They dwell the wolves and bears amid, Yet never shall thy name be hid. Thou shalt with demigods find place, From age to age, from race to race; And ne'er shall darken thy bright ray Until grows dark the orb of day ; When with a crash the heavens fall, And time shall cease to be, and ruin cover all. From C. T. Wilson's Russian Lyrics. WHAT OTHERS SAY " How strange ! More than twenty years have passed since we, with mind intent and furrowed brow, have as- siduously been writing odes, yet we nowhere hear praises sung to them or us! May it be that Phoebus has sent forth his stern decree that none of us should ever aspire to equal Ivan Ivanovich Dmitriev 437 Flaccus, Ramler 1 and all their brotherhood, or ever be re- nowned as they in song ? What do you think ? I took yesterday the pains to compare their song and ours: in theirs, there is not much to read! a page; if much, three pages, and yet what joy to read ! You feel how shall I say it ? as if you flew on wings! Judging by their briefness, you are sure they wrote them playfully, and not labouring four days: then why should we not be more fortunate than they, since we are a hundred times more diligent and patient ? When one of us begins to write, he leaves all play aside, pores a whole night over a couple of verses, sweats, thinks, draws and burns his paper; and sometimes he rises to such daring that he passes a whole year over one ode! And, of course, he uses up all his intelligence upon it ! And there you have a most solemn ode ! I cannot say to what species it belongs, but it is very full, some two hundred strophes! Judge for yourself how many fine verses there are in it! Besides, it is written according to the rules: at first you read the introduction, then the argument, and finally the conclusion, precisely as the learned speak in the church 1 And yet, I must confess, there is no pleasure in reading it. ' ' Let me take, for example, the odes on victories, how that they conquered the Crimea, how the Swedes were drowned at sea: I find there all the details of a battle, where it hap- pened, how, when, in short, a report in verse! Very well! . . . I yawn ! I throw it away, and open another, one written for a holiday, or something like it : here you discover things that a less clever mind would not have thought out within a lifetime: ' Dawn's rosy fingers,' and ' lily of para- dise,' and ' Phoebus,' and ' heaven cleft open ' ! So vocifer- ous, so loud ! No, it does not please, nor move our hearts in the least." Thus an old man of our grandfathers' times spoke yester- day to me in gentle simplicity. I, being myself a companion of those singers, the action of whose verse he so marvelled at, was much disturbed, nor knew how to answer him. But 1 A German poet who translated the odes of Horace and wrote odes of his own. 43 8 The Eighteenth Century luckily, if at all that may be called luck to hear your own terrible sentence, a certain Aristarch began to speak to him. ' ' For this, ' ' said he, ' ' there are many causes ; I will not promise to unveil one-half of them, but some I will gladly expound to you. I myself love the language of the gods, poetry, and just as you, am little edified with ours. In former days I have much conversed in Moscow with our Pindars, and have watched them well : the greater part of them are corporals of the body-guard, assessors, officers, scribes, or dust-covered guardians of monsters in the Museum of Antiquities, all of them busy government officials; I have often noticed that they barely have time in two days or three to make a proper rhyme, their mind being all taken up with their affairs. No sooner has a lucky thought struck them, when, lo, the clock strikes six ! The carriage is wait- ing: 't is time for the theatre, and then to the ball, or to Lion, 1 and then 't is night. . . . When are they to call on Apollo ? In the morning, no sooner has he opened his eyes, than there is a note: ' Rehearsal at five o'clock ' . . . Where ? In fashionable society, where our lyric poet is to play the part of the harlequin. Is there any time left for odes? You have to learny our parts, then to ,Kroll,* then home again, to primp yourself and get dressed, then to the theatre, and good-bye another day. Besides, the ancients had one purpose, we another: Horace, for example, who nurtured his breast with ecstasy, what did he want ? Not very much: in the aeons immortality, and in Rome but a wreath of laurels or of myrtle, that Delia might say: ' He is famous ; through him I, too, am immortal !' But the aim of many of us is a present of a ring, at times a hundred roubles, or friendship with a princelet who all his life has never read anything except now and then the Court almanac, or praises from their friends to whom each printed sheet appears to be sacred. " Considering how different their views and ours are, it may safely be asserted, without offending those mettlesome gentle- 1 Master of masquerades at St. Petersburg. ' St. Petersburg tailor. Ivan Ivanovich Dmitriev 439 men, the alumni of the Russian Muses, that they must have some especial taste, and different means, and a special man- ner in the composition of a lyrical poem; what they are I cannot tell you, but I shall announce to you and, truly, I will not lie about it what a certain poet thought of verses, of whose works the Mercury and the Observer 1 and the book stores and the stalls are full. ' We are born into this world,' he thought, ' with rhymes; is it then not ridiculous for us poets to waste our time, like Demosthenes, at the sea- shore in a cabin, in doing nothing but reading and thinking, and relating what we have thought out only to the noisy waves ? Nature makes the poet, and not study : he is with- out study learned when he becomes enthused, but science will always remain science, and not a gift; the only neces- sary equipments are boldness, rhymes and ardour.' " And this is the way the natural poet wrote an ode: barely has the thunder of the cannon given the nation the pleasant news that the Rymnikski Alcides " has vanquished the Poles, or that Ferzen has taken their chief, Kosciuszko, captive, he immediately grabs the pen, and, behold, the word ' ode ' is already on the paper." Then follows in one strain: " ' On such a day and year!' How now? 'I sing!' Oh no, that 's old! Were it not better: ' Grant me, O Phoebus?' Or, better still: ' Not you alone are trod under heel, O turban-wearing horde ! ' But what shall I rhyme with it but ' snored,' or ' bored ' ? No, no! it will not do! I had better take a walk, and refresh myself with a whiff of air." He went, and thus he meditated on his walk: " The be- ginning never daunts the singers: you simply say what first occurs to you. The trouble only begins when you have to praise the hero. I know not with whom to compare him; with Rumyantsev, with Greyg or with Orl6v? What a pity I have not read the ancients! For it does not seem proper to compare to the moderns. Well, I '11 simply write: 'Rejoice, hero, rejoice, O thou! ' That 's good! But what now? Ah, now comes the ecstasy! I '11 say: 'Who has rent the veil of eternity for me ! I see the gleam of light- 1 Magazines. * Suv6rov. 440 The Eighteenth Century ning! From the upper world I hear, and so on.' And then? Of course: 'Many a year!' Most excellent! I have caught the plan, and thoughts, and all ! Hail to the poet! All I have to do now, is to sit down and write, and boldly print! " He hurries to his garret, scribbles, and the deed is done! And his ode is printed, and already they wrap shoeblacking in his ode. Thus has he Pindarised, and all his ilk who are scarcely capable to write a proper shop sign ! "I wish Phoebus would tell them in their dream : 1 He who in Catherine's loud age of glory cannot by his eulogy move the hearts of others, nor water his sweet lyre with tears, let him throw it away, break it and know he is not a poet!'" END OF PART I. INDEX Ablesimov, A. O., his comic opera, 36; biographical sketch and extract, 370 seq. Academy founded, 316 seq. Achronisru, of Russ. literature, 9; of legends, 14 Addisou's influence on Russ. lit- erature, 30 seq., 291, 327 Alexander the Great in legend, 14 Alexander I., 304 seq., 378 Alexis Mikhdylovich, school es- tablished during his reign, 17; and the theatre, 26; and see 35 All Kinds of Things, 272, 326 American interest in Russ. litera- ture, vii. seq. Anaqreon, translated, 224 Andover, see Biblical Repository Anglo-Russian Literary Society's studies in Russ. literature, x. Anthologies of Russ. literature, viii., x. Apocrypha, 12 seq.; legends, 114 seq.; stories, 152 seq. Aprakos, n Apuleius, 33, 358, 374 Athenaeum, yearly reports on Russ. literature, xi. Bain, R. N., translation of fairy tales, 189 Baldwin, Prince, and Daniel the Abbot, 57 seq. Barlaam and Josaphat, 14 Batyushkov, 395 ; translated, viii. Bazdn, E. P., on Russ. literature, x. Beccaria, 30 Bee, The, Russ. literary collec- tion, 100; English periodical, 272 Beggar-songs, 178, 186 seq. Benfev's theory, 20 Bible, its influence on early Russ. literature, 8; in Russian, n; in historical literature, 15 ; quoted in literature, 100 seq.; and Ivdn the Terrible, 121 Biblical Repository, The, of An- dover, on Russ. literature, ix. Bogdan6vich, I. F., at Court, 31 ; his Psyche, 34, 263 ; first col- lector of proverbs, 199; bio- graphical sketch and extracts, 374 seq. Bohemia, its political status, 3; its ancient literature, 4 Boileau's influence on Russ. lit- erature, 29, 30, 230 Borrow, G., translations from the Russian, viii. Bowl-songs, 178, 179 Bowring, Sir John, his transla- tions from the Russian, vii., 178, 242, 291, 306, 379, 392, 395, 398, 422, 429; his imitators, viii. Boydn, 22, 81 Boydr, 46 (note) Bradford, Mrs. W., editor of Prin- cess Ddshkov's Memoirs, 316 Brandes, G., on Russ. literature, x. Brockes, 378 Bulgaria, its political status, 3; its ancient literature, 4 ; its lan- guage in the Church, 6 ; in Russia, 7 ; apocrypha travelling over, 13 ; its legends, 14 Bylinas, of Vladimir's cycle, 9 seq.; their development, 21; their relation to the Word, 22 Byzantium's influence on Russia, 5 ; Greek tradition, 8 ; apocry- pha in Russia, 13 ; legends, 14; repression, 22 ; chronograph- ers, 65 441 442 Index Calilah-wa-Dimnah, 14 Catherine II., and French litera- ture, 29; and comedy, 36; bio- graphical sketch and extracts, 405 seq., and see 28 et passim Catholic, contamination, 5 ; re- ligion in Russia, 134 Ceremonial songs, 24 Chanson de Roland, 80 Charms, 178, 188 seq. Child, Prof. F. J., 20, 163 Christianity, its influence on Rus- sia, 4 seq. Chronicles, 15 Chrysostom in Russ. literature, II, 116 Church, its opposition to popular literature, 16, 19, 23, 24; its contact with the West, 17 ; its reform, 212 seq., 219; union of Churches, 17, 135 seq. Church fathers, their influence on Russ. literature, 8 ; and Ivdn the Terrible, 121 Church-Slavic, its relation to Bul- garian, 7; and see Bulgaria City songs, 24 seq. Collections, literary, n seq.; of Svyatoslav, n Comedy, 36, 211, 272 seq., 308, 311 seq., 342 seq., 370 seq., 397 seq. Constantinople, in pilgrimages, 14 ; and see Byzantium Cox, G., on Russ. literature, iz. Coxe, W., account of Russ. litera- ture, vii. Curtin, J., on fairy tales, 189 Cyril of Turov, his sermons, n, 62 seq. Cyril and Methodius, preaching in Bulgarian, 6 Dai's proverbs, 199 d'Alembert, 29, 272 Daniel the Abbot, his feeling of Russ. unity, 3 ; his pilgrimage, 14; extract, 56 seq. Daniel the Prisoner, 100 seq. Danilov, Kirsha, 163 Danilov, M. V., extract from his Memoirs, 269 seq. Dante, in Servian literature, 4: his Divine Comedy, 13, 96 Dashkov, Princess, 308; bio- graphical sketch and extract, 316 seq. Demetrius the Impostor, Sumaro- kov's, translated into English, 255 Derzhdvin, G. R., at Court, 31; his lyrics, 34 ; biographical sketch and extracts, 377 seq., and see 33, 241, 272, 358 seq. t 405 Destouches, 308 Diderot and Russ. educational system, 29 ; and see 272, 316 Dietrich, A., Russ. fairy tales, 189 Digenis Akritas, 14 Dmitriev, I. I., his odes, 33; his lyrics, 34; biographical sketch and extracts, 428 seq. Dole, N. H., his translations from the Russian, x., 50, 379 Dolgoruki, I. M., biographical sketch and extracts, 422 seq. Dolgoruki, Princess, biographical sketch and extract, 233 seq. Domostrdy, 12, 126 seq., 219 " Double faith," 16, 19 Drama, 35 seq., 150, 254 seq., 308 seq., 418; and see Comedy Drone, The, 327 Druzhina, 46 (note) Dupuy, E., on Russ. literature, x. Eastern Church separated from Rome, 6 Eastman, S. C., translator of Brandes, x. "Ecstatic" poetry, 33 Edmands, J. L,., translator of Vogue", r. Edwards, S., on Russ. literature, ix., 306 Elizabeth, Queen, appealed to by King Sigisniund, 5 Emerald, The, n, ico Emin, F., 327 Encyclopedias on Russ. literature, xi. English, interest in Russ. litera- ture, vii. seq.; influence on Russ. literature, 30, 36, 291 ; Masons in Russia, 32 Englishmen, in Moscow, 26 ; speaking Russian, vii.; reading Plat6n's theology, 300 Index 443 Ermdk, 372 seq. t 431 seq. Esop's fables in Russian, 34 Esprit des Lois, in Russia, 29 Eusebius, 116 F., J. G. A., translation from I/omon6sov, 242 Fables, 34 seq. Fairy tales, 25 seq,, 189 seq. Felitsa, 3, 33, 241, 272, 358 seq. Feofdn, biographical sketch and extracts, 211 seq.; and see 12, 28, 219, 224, 233, 300 Folklore, iSseg.; bridging chasm, 20; connected with that of Eu- rope and Asia, 21 Folksongs, ix., 177 seq. Folktales, ix. Fon-Vizin, D. I., biographical sketch and extracts, 341 seq.; and see 31, 36, 269 Foreign Quarterly Review on Russ. literature, viii. Foreigners in Moscow, 26 Formalism of Russian life, 12 Franklin, 361 Eraser's Magazine, Turner on Russ. literature, 224, 242, 272, 379, 429 . Free Russia, translations from Russian, x. French influence on Russ. litera- ture, 29 seq., 34, 230 Gardiner, F. H., translation of Bazdn, x. Gaussen, W. F. A., on Russ. lit- erature, x. Gellert, in Russian, 34, 306 Geography in ancient Russ. lit- erature, 189 German Suburb, 26 Gilferding, 163 Gillies, R. P., on Russ. litera- ture, viii. G6gol, 35, 36, 397 Golden Beam, The, II ' Golden Chain, The, n Grahame, F. R., ix., 242, 306, 398 Great-Russians of the South, 9, 10; exterminated by Tartars, 23 Grech, on Russ. literature, viii. Greek traditions in Byzantium, 8; taught in Russia, 17 ; treaties with the Greeks, 4 Grib6vski, A. M., biographical sketch and extract, 405 seq. Griboye'dov, 36, 397 Grimm's mythological theory, 20 Griswold, M. W., bibliography of Russ. literature, x. Giinther, 29 Gundulic*, his epic, 4 Hakluyt Society, translation of Nikitin, in Haller, 378 Hatnartolos, 15 Hansa, 21 Hapgood, Miss I. F., translator of epic songs, 163 Heard, T. A., 233 HelPs Post, 327 Henningsen, C. F., on Russ. lit- erature, ix. Herzen, 272, 287 Historical songs, 23, 172 History in Russ. literature, 15, 36 seq., 219 seq. Hodgetts, E. M. S., translation of fairy tales, 189 Holy Land, visited by Russians, 8, 56 seq. Holy Virgin's Descent into Hell, The, 96 seq. Homer, a Russian, 298 Horace, in Russ. literature, 34, 397 Humour, in translation, x. Igor, see Word of Igor's Arma- ment Ilari6n, eulogy of Vladimir, n, 48 seq. Ilyd of Murom, 165 seq.; known to the West, 9, 24 Index librorum prohibitorum, 13 Instructions in literature, 12 ; Catherine's, 30; Vladimir's, n, 50 seq.; Tatfshchev's, 219 Ipdti manuscript, 71 Isidor, at Council of Florence, 15, 17 Istomin, Kari6n, 26 Ivdn the Terrible, 17, 23, 26, 115 seq., 121 seq., 126, 172 seq. Jacob, gospel of, 13 James, Richard, collector of songs, vii., 23, 130 seq. 444 Index Johnson's Cyclopedia, on Russ. literature, xi. Journey to Europe in literature, 15 Kamenev, G. P., biographical sketch and extract, 411 seq. Kantcmir, A. .biographical sketch and extract, 223 seq.; and see 26,28, 35, 21 * Kapnist, V. V., his lyrics, 34; biographical sketch and ex- tracts, 397 seq. Karamzin, 34, 36, 255, 395,418, 428 Khmnitser, I. I., biographical sketch and extracts, 306 seq.; and see 34 Kherdskov, M. M., biographical sketch and extract, 298 seq.; and see 33 Khorov6d, 178 Kiev, metropolis of Russia, 9; its poetic tradition, 10; has no by- linas, 22; chronicle, 15, ^lseq., 80; cycle, 24, 163; its contact with Poland, 6, 12, 33; clergy and scholasticism, 26; interme- diary of Western culture, 17 Kirye"evski, 163 Klopstock, 378 Knyazhnin, Y. B., biographical sketch and extracts, 308 seq.; and see 30, 36, 316 Kolyadas, 177 seq. Kostr6v, E. I., biographical sketch and extract, 358 seq.; and see 31 Kotoshikhin, G., biographical sketch and extracts, 136 seq.; and see 18, 178 Kozitski, G., 326 Kozl6y, 233 Krehbiel, H.E., on popular songs, 178 Krizhanich, Y., biographical sketch and extracts, 134 seq.; and see 15 Kryl6v,34, 306,429; translated, ix. Kurbski, A. M., biographical sketch and extracts, 115 seq.; and see 15, 18 I/a Fontaine, in Russ. literature, 34, 306, 374 Lamentations, 178, 187 Language, under Peter I., 27 Latin, in the Western Church, 6 seq.; taught in Russia, 17; trans- lations from, 150 Latins, hatred of, 6, 17 Laurentian manuscript, 65 Legends, in ancient Russia, 8; apocryphal, 12 seq.; profane, 14 seq. Lewis, W. D., his translations from the Russian, viii., 379, 392, 429 Liberation of the serfs, 361 Lineff, Mrs. E., translations of popular songs, 178 Literary coteries, 32 Literature, in Russia, of recent growth, 3 seq.; rarely pro- duced outside the Church, 12; in Slavic countries, 3 seq. Little-Russians, their character- istics, 9; whence come, 10 Lomon6sov, M. V., biographical sketch and extracts, 241 seq.; and see 28, 29, 33, 150, 378, 429 Love songs, 178, 179 seq. Lowell lectures on Russ. litera- ture, x. Lucidarius in Russia, 8 Ludolf, author of first Russ. gram- mar, vii. Lukd Zhidyata, biographical sketch and extract, 44 seq.; his style, 9 Lyncs, in Russ. literature, 34 Maksim the Greek, 116 Malalas, source of history, 15 Marlowe's Tamerlane in Russian, 26 Martinists, 32, 361 Martinof, J., translator of Tati- shchev, 219 Masons and Russ. literature, 32, 272, 327 Maykov, V. I., biographical sketch and extracts, 263 seq.; and see 34, 374 Medvye"dev, 18 Meshcherski, Prince, 375 seq. Metastasio imitated, 308 Milton's Paradise Lost trans- lated, 291 Modern Language Association, on fairy tales, 189 Index 445 Molie're in Russia, 26 Montesquieu, 29, 30, 272 More, Sir Thomas, 287 Morfill, W. R., translations from the Russian, ix., x., 130, 172 Moscow, as a political centre, 3, 10; chronicles, 15; its foreign colony, 17; influenced by the West, 17, 26,33; cycle of songs, 24; et passim Mozharovski's stories of the Fox, 26, 198 seq. Munro, H. H., translator of the Word, 81 Murave"v, M. N., 395 seq. Musin-Pushkin, A. I., discoverer of the Word, 81 Mysteries and Moralities, 35 Mythological theory offolklore, 20 Naake, J. T., translations of fairy- tales, 189 Nekrdsov, 233 Neledinski-Mele'tski, Y. A., his lyrics, 34; biographical sketch and extracts, 392 seq. Nestor, his style, 9; his chronicle, 15, 41 seq., 50 seq., 65 seq., 71 seq.; its discovery, 81 New Testament apocrypha in Russ. literature, 13 Nibelungenlied, 80 Nicodemus, gospel of, 13 Nikitin, Afandsi, his Travel to India, 15, in seq. Nik6n's corrections, 12 Norse, influence in ancient Rus- sia, 4; tradition in Kiev, 9; acquaintance with Ilyd of Mu- rom, 21, 24; laws, 45 Novels, 36 N6vgorod, its relations with Ger- tnany,2i; cycle of songs, 24, 163; its laconic style, 9, 44 seq.; its chronicles, 15; Dompstroy, 126 N6vikov, N. I., imprisoned, 30; and Catherine, 31 seq.; and the Masons, 32; his satires, 35; his historical investigations, 36; biographical sketch and ex- tracts, 326 seq. Odes, 33; and see Ecstatic poetry Odoe"vski, 362 Ogargv, 362 Old Testament apocrypha in Russ. literature, 13 Oldnetsk, bylinas, 10, 22 Opera, 370 seq. Ossian, in Russ. literature, 358, 418 Otto, F., see Cox, G. Ovid, in Russian, 27 Ovse"n, 177 Oxford, publishing the first Russ. f grammar, vii. Ozerov, V. A., and the tragedy, 36; biographical sketch and extract, 418 seq. Painter, The, 32, 327 Pal